Divergence
by Salek
Summary: A single event, a single twist of fate, caused Alanna's path to diverge entirely from what was before her...but can even such an extensive alteration of her past change the future? (A/J)
1. Trebond

**Title – **Divergence (boo, silly name)

**Author – **Fancy Schmancy name for 'deranged freak' ;) Anyway – **Salek**.

**Rating – **Well, I would have said M15+ from here in Australia, but we only have PG13+ or R18+. Urk. So far it's nowhere near an R, so I guess it would have to be a 'mature' PG13+, I guess.

**Pairing – **A/J, A/G as well, I guess (in bite sized amounts), though it's primarily an A/J

**Category – **Action/Adventure. Romance. Can I put in Mystery? I think it's pretty mystery like…but maybe that's related to the 'deranged freak' bit.

**Disclaimer – **_Disclaimer Haiku._

_            I own nothing _

_            Tamora P. rules this world_

_            Please do not sue me_

**Note – **Uhm, this is my first Tamora Pierce fic, though I've been a fan of hers for a while. I've also read a lot of the fics on this board, so…I guess I have a feel for them. Sorta? I'm probably not a very good writer, but meh. Apologies for any inconsistencies with the books, I've not got them too hand, unfortunately. I'd appreciate it if they could be pointed out, though.

Oh, also, general note. I realised after I'd written a good 30+ pages of this that I had been using names and the like from other fics I had read on this board. Now…I didn't actually mean to do that, it just happened subconsciously. Honest! (*weeps*) So, if you see something which is kinda your idea originally, can you just imagine that I'm writing in an homage to you, rather than shamelessly 'stealing'? Because I really didn't mean to! They're such good ideas, though…

(hmm…I had real issues uploading this and formatting it correctly. Looks like there's big gaps between the lines. That's not good, is it…? *cries*)

Divergence 

A woman, a picture of perfect beauty, walked around the small pool in the center of the room. Her gown threatened to draw across the – was it water? It looked somewhat like polished silver – that filled the pool, but the gown seemed to lift above the surface of the pool of its own accord. The woman tossed her head to the side as she went, raven locks falling about her face, framing a face that was utterly perfect, yet one that was also displaying utter frustration.

"It is not yet time." A deep voice rumbled from behind her, and she turned to come face to face with the speaker, a barrel chested man of golden complexion. "You know this, we must wait for them to ask for us."

"I know." She replied simply. "That does not mean that I cannot await her call."

The man gave a small nod of his head. "You also know that we cannot intervene much. Merely point a path and hope that they follow."

"I know this also, brother." The woman sharply retorted. "But you should also be concerned with this moment – the junction of important events draws near, the future depends upon such an event."

"That is untrue," the woman's 'brother' stated firmly, "Only your perception of the future relies upon this. Life will proceed as normal regardless of her path."

"Though many lives depend on her!"

"Many lives have also been lost because of her. She is not as important as you may believe."

"Oh come now, brother! Surely you cannot believe this?"

The man gave a sigh, before sitting. As he lowered himself, a chair arose out of the floor to support him. "Sister, current events may rely upon her, yes. But life will continue whether she takes on the role you have prescribed for her or not." A small scrap of parchment appeared in his hands'. Pointing to a section, he spoke authoritatively; "Here. A king dies that would have been saved had she intervened." He pointed to another section, parallel to the first mark, "And yet here, another man lives that would have died. And here, the kings death leads to a new king, a new future, a new cycle."

The woman's perfect features scrunched into a frown. "Balance."

The man nodded. The woman sighed. She too sat suddenly, another chair rising to meet her.

"Regardless," she softly spoke, "I will point her in the right direction. I will guide her the way I desire."

The man shrugged, shaggy hair brushing his forehead again. "As you wish." The both of them sat in silence, awaiting the time when they would be invoked and be able to touch the lives of those they desired.

***

Alanna was troubled. 

She'd been hoping that Thom, her twin would have agreed to the plan she'd devised. She _knew_ that it would have worked – their father would be unlikely to check on them, after all – and _she_ was the one who was taking on all the risk here. Thom merely would have had to ensure that no-one caught wind of what Alanna herself was doing in Corus; he wouldn't have to pretend to be _female_. No, she was the one who had the difficult side of the bargain. To pretend to be a boy for eight years, in order to win her Shield and be able to realise her dreams. 

That's what this whole situation was about, of course. Alanna had always dreamt of being a warrior, fighting evil and helping others. In short, the exact opposite of what she'd been 'born' to do. Ladies didn't battle anything, besides boredom and scandal. Ladies simpered, and gossiped, a-and _dalianced_! She wanted no part of _that_. 

Yet Thom was being stubborn. He didn't seem to recognise how perfect her plan was. He, unlike her, had never wanted to be a Knight, a warrior. No, he wanted to be a powerful sorcerer, using his Gift in the vein of those mighty wielders of magic in the stories that Maude often told to them. 

Yet it seemed fate had other ideas for them – Alanna was to be going to the City of the Gods; to the Convent, to become a Lady. Thom was to go to Corus and learn to be a Knight, despite the fact that he would rather be going to the same place she was going, to learn from the Priests at the temples of the City of the Gods and work with his Gift. 

It was during a prank the two of them pulled on the groomsman the other day that the idea had come to Alanna; why not switch places? Thom could travel to the City of the Gods and become the Sorceror he'd always wanted to be, and Alanna could travel to Corus in an attempt to win her Shield? She didn't know why it hadn't come to her beforehand; it had seemed that obvious. Thom had said no to her originally, but she knew her twin – and that merely meant that he was going to think it over. If he wanted no part of the idea, he'd have convinced her of it's folly, which he'd not done – so she hoped that he would eventually come around to the idea. 

She was of a mind to stuff her brother in a chest and strap him to a horse, sending him on his way to the City of the Gods, if he didn't agree to her plan. Of course, Thom being Thom, caution before action, he was being stubborn. She told him so after he had registered his worry at her plan.

"You're being stubborn, Thom."

"Am not. I'm just being reasonable, that's all. You know this would never work, and fathe-"

"Of course it would work! And father doesn't care about us at all-" she swallowed her sadness at these words, however true they were and however much she knew this, they still hurt "-so I don't see why you're so worried about that. You don't even have to do anything – just be Thom! I'm the one who has to worry about stuff."

"Alanna, I-I just don't want to see you hurt." He looked at her, purple eyes wide.

"What do you mean?"

"When they find out that you're a girl, and send you kicking and screaming back here, or to the Convent, you know? Have you get so close to your dream but to not actually…reach it."

"That's not why you're against the idea, is it?" she asked, disbelievingly. "I can look after my own end of it, don't worry about me."  
"But I do! You're my sister, Alanna, and I don't want to see you go through that."

"Thom."

"Don't 'Thom' me."

Alanna growled in frustration. "Look, do you want to be a knight?"

"No, b-"

"And I don't want to be a Lady! I want to go where you're going, and you want to go where I'm going. I don't care if I get found out-" She held out her hand to stop his reply "-No! I don't care! I don't want to live my life as a-a _Lady_" she injected the word with as much venom as she could, "thinking that I'd never even tried to be what I wanted to be. I'm going to try, and I'm going to do it whether you'll help me or not." Finishing with a satisfied nod, Alanna watched Thom's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What do you mean, with my help or not?"

"What do you think? If you don't help me, I'll run away! I'll make Maude take me to Corus, or, I dunno, Carthak! Or somewhere else! I'm not going to that Convent, Thom. The only thing is whether you will in my place or not."

"Now who's being stubborn?"

"Shut up." She hit him on the arm to punctuate her reply. With a grimace – she was always much stronger than he was – he gave a resigned sigh.

"I still don't like it. I just, I don't know." He looked at his hands, "I have a feeling about this."

"A good one?"

"No. Not really."

"Maybe you should see Maude, see if she's got any herbs for you."

"Don't think that'll help." They stood in silence for a moment or two, Alanna not wanting to pressure her twin any more than she already had, and Thom seemingly not wanting to answer the unspoken question – _Yes or no?_

Thom shot a look towards his sister, then began to walk away. Alanna, with a questioning look on her face, trotted after him. After a while, she realised where he was heading.

"Taking my advice, anyway?" she asked softly, noting that he was moving towards the small house that Maude stayed in. Thom merely grunted. Alanna didn't really blame him for being terse; he'd never been one to make decisions quickly – especially one this important! – and her continued prodding wasn't going to improve his mood.

Still, they didn't really have any time for Thom to think it over for too long. She'd read a notice her father had received the other week, requesting 'Young Trebond's' presence at Corus within the month. She was, she supposed, going to be sent off to the Convent as soon as Thom had left. She felt another twinge of hurt, and a flash of anger, at what she saw as their father attempting to get rid of them as soon as he could. 

"Maude? Maude?" snapping out of her reverie, Alanna trudged towards Thom, who was rapping on Maude's door. "Hello?"

The door creaked open, and Maude's kindly face peered out. "I may be old, Thom, but I'm not deaf." Thom gave her an apologetic look, and a smile spread across Maude's plain face. "Come in, come in."

***

Within the room with the silver pool, the two beings remained seated. The man had closed his eyes, seemingly meditating on whatever occupied his thoughts for the moment. The woman sat straight in her seat, peering intently into the pool, thoughts of red hair and amethyst eyes filling her thoughts.

She was becoming impatient, and impatience can be a dangerous thing. For a moment, she took her attention away from the pool, closing her eyes and allowing her thoughts to reside elsewhere.

At that moment, a patch of darkness opened beside the pool, a sickly stench arising from within its depths. A thin black thread of purest Chaos shot out of this patch, slipping onto the floor of the room. The patch of darkness disappeared, and the small black thread seemed to be confused for a moment, an end waving about in the air. 

With a sudden movement, it appeared to have come to a decision, and slithered into the pool. For a moment, the silver surface turned jet-black; still reflective, but with an oily skin. Then it was silver again; no evidence whatsoever remained of the dark things' presence, whatever it was.

The woman opened her eyes once more, sighing as she realised the pool was still reflecting nothing but her own face. 

***

Maude had sat the two of them on a small bench around a slightly larger table. It was uncomfortable, but Alanna did not mind. She waited for Thom to start speaking, but he didn't really seem to be about to talk. Gesturing to get his attention, she raised her eyebrows at him. He lowered his in reply, telling her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to speak first. She rolled her eyes at him, before exhaling loudly and resting her arms and chin on the table.

"Now then, children, what can I help you with?" Maude's voice seemed tinged with amusement, possibly because of the sibling interaction occurring in front of her. She'd reached into a small pouch, procuring two roots – Tinterherb, Alanna noted with pride. Healing was the one part of 'being a Lady' which she didn't particularly mind, and was actually quite eager to learn. Although Maude had professed that at the Convent she'd not be taught any more on the topic than she already knew – handing them to the twins. Alanna took the herb with a nod of thanks, before sticking it in her mouth and chewing it, the slightly minty taste and the smooth texture calming her nerves.

"Ahh," she began. Perhaps her nerves hadn't been calmed _that_ much, after all, "We were talking about what we were going to do in the future. About what we're supposed to do, soon, I mean." Maude gave an understanding nod, "and what we wanted out of it." She motioned to Thom.

"She wants us to change places." Thom said softly. Maude's eyes widened in surprise, before she leant back in her chair. Tapping her lip in thought, she spent a while mulling this over.

"Well. That would certainly mean you'd get what you both wanted, or that you could work towards what you both wanted." She began, "Though of course, your father would have none of it."

"He doesn't need to know." Alanna stated firmly.

"Come now, child. He is your father."

"Not in anything but name." Maude looked uncomfortable at hearing this, shifting on her seat slightly.

"That may well be, Alanna, but that doesn't mean that he isn't."

"I don't care," the firm tone was still present, "I don't care, Maude. I'm not going to that Convent, simple as that. Whether Thom goes to Corus or the City of the Gods is another matter."

"Whether Thom goes to Corus or not is something that Thom should get a say in." Thom interjected, "Maude, I was wondering if you could…uhh-" he licked his lips, anxiety getting the better of him, "-Look in the Fire? Just to get an idea of what we should do?" 

Maude didn't respond for a moment, she seemed to be studying the two of them with a heavy eye, weighing them up and making her mind up about something. After a while, she gave a small nod. 

"Very well. I will need your help, though. Both of you. You and your Gifts."

***

Alanna built the fire up exactly to Maude's specifications, bringing in small pieces of wood from outside and arranging them in a small pyramid shape. Maude and Thom then placed some tinder underneath this, Maude arranging some herbs among the dried grass.

"Are you alright, sister? You look…pale." Thom whispered to Alanna, arranging himself next to her on the small bench. Alanna nodded stiffly. It wasn't that she was afraid of what the Fire might show, not entirely. She'd already made up her mind that she wasn't going to the Convent, so what the Fire was going to show didn't matter to her. Not really, anyway. It was just that it seemed that she'd lived her entire life for this moment, that it was so important to her and to others…sighing, she shook her head. It was not the Fire that worried her, it was what Maude and Thom might make out of it. She loved them both, and while she may have made her mind up already, she still wanted to do what was best by them.

"Come, we're ready." Maude stated simply, before reaching for her tinderbox. Thom gave a small grin, before he reached his hands out. A small flame of Amethyst, the colour of the Trebond Gift, danced across his palm before setting alight to the tinder. Maude gave a slightly reproachful look his way, before offering her hands to the both of them. Clasping their hands together, the three of them formed a brace around the small fire on the table in front of them. "Concentrate," Maude continued, "be calm, be at peace. I will reach out for you, don't try and do anything." Thom gave a short nod at the command, but Alanna frowned. Not do anything? That was not easy for her. Still, she shut her eyes tightly and attempted to clear her mind.

Alanna emptied her mind. Coram had taught her a concentration exercise that worked in a similar fashion when she had begun to learn the bow. She remembered his steady support and words of encouragement when she had begun what he referred to as 'walking her destiny'. Coram had always believed that she could do anything she set her mind to. She realised that this wasn't what Maude had in mind, and attempted to quash all thought, to float through, well, nothing. To think of nothing. 

As she had thought to herself earlier, this was hard for Alanna. 

Still, she supposed that what she had done was sufficient. It appeared that this was the case, as with a gasp Alanna realised that her Gift was now being added to Thom's and Maude's own, as the latter directed the flow into the Fire, chanting words as she went. Cries to the Gods; Mithros and the Mother Goddess, filled Alanna's mind, and she found herself mentally repeating them, echoing Maude's words, hopeful that her true path would present itself.

She opened her eyes, and peered intently into the now brightly glowing flames. Purple danced with the natural red of the flame – Maude's Gift was almost invisible, so powerful was the Trebond Gift. Alanna felt herself shudder slightly, no matter how much Thom might enjoy it, their shared Gift would always trouble her. Still, for the moment, she hoped that this power would aid her in scrying her path. She strained her eyes till they ached, but she could make out no image within the Fire.

For some reason, this struck her as odd, despite the fact that Maude had told them both that only she would see anything.

Suddenly, a wind blew, and the fire went out. The bright purple colour of her and Thom's gift flared for a moment, before it too disappeared. She heard herself sigh in exhaustion – she hadn't realised just how tired she was, as the power snapped back into her. She noticed Thom and Maude also breathing heavily. Maude looked shocked, eyes darting furiously between Alanna and her twin. 

"Did you…?" Thom began.

"Yes." Maude offered simply, still breathing heavily. "I have seen what we should do."

Alanna should have been thankful. She should have been thanking the Gods that they had allowed Maude to see so clearly – the old woman sounded very sure of what she had seen – but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong, that something should be…different.

Maude looked directly at Thom, gazing at him with the strongest look Alanna had ever seen on her face.

"You shall go to the City of the Gods, and train to be a Sorcerer with the Priests in residence there." Thom's eyes widened, before he nodded his head slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it before he said anything. Maude then looked towards Alanna, whose smile was already threatening to split her face. 

"So I'm going to Corus?" she asked, excitedly.

"No." Maude slowly said, as if she did not believe it herself. "You are to go somewhere different."

***

Alanna frowned again. It had been a day since Maude had Looked into the Fire, and she still hadn't revealed to Alanna just what exactly she had seen. Still, Alanna was somewhat content – she had managed to discern that at least Maude wasn't attempting to drag her off to the Convent. Not that she would have let herself go, of course, but at least Maude had helped them officially arrange documents and the like to ensure that Thom wouldn't be troubled when he reached the City of the Gods. 

Her brother, the boy in question, had apparently taken Maude's directions as a message from the Gods. He had professed to Alanna his joy at hearing that he would get to learn what he had always wanted to, and that he'd not have to become a Knight. He said that he had wanted to go along with Alanna's plan at first, but he still had some reservations. Reservations, it appeared, that no longer troubled him.

She was happy for her brother, she really was, but she was still a little upset that she wasn't being allowed to go to Corus – to earn her Shield. She felt slightly put out by this, that she had done all this work convincing Thom that they could do it, for it to be taken away from her. The odd feeling she had felt yesterday after Maude had Looked into the Fire – that something had gone wrong – merely intensified her slight feeling of bitterness.

"Lass," a voice from behind her forced her round, her smile splitting across her face as she realised who it belonged to. "I 'ear that you 'n I will be enjoyin' each other's company for a wee bit longer." 

The bitterness was still there, oh yes, but this was another reason that she fought it down. Maude had told Coram that he should accompany Alanna – wherever she was supposed to go – and Alanna couldn't be happier. Well actually, she thought with a smile, she had _told _Coram to go with her; Coram was still somewhat frightened of Maude. Her Gift, he had told her, 'gave him the willies'. She nodded her head up and down wildly, blushing as Coram gave a chuckle at her youthful exuberance. He slapped his hand onto her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Maude wants a word wit' ye." He told her, "Go on. I'll start t' get things ready for us t' leave."

"Do you know what she wants?" Coram shook his head, and she nodded. Making her way towards Maude's house, she stopped and turned back to the burly man. "Coram? I, ah, just want to say how much it means to me that you're coming with me. Wherever we're going, that is." The man gave her a smile.

She headed towards Maude's with a renewed sense of purpose. However…odd things might have seemed, at the moment everything seemed well, and that was good enough for her.

***

"Where is she going?" the perfect woman asked the golden skinned man, a slight tremor of worry in her voice as she stood before him. "I couldn't touch her as I planned, I don't know her thoughts at all."

"Then you must rely upon her own skill and judgment, sister."

"Surely you will look into what went awry?"

"Aye. I will." The man gravely nodded. The woman gave a wry smile, before settling down onto a chair once more.

"It will be interesting to see how your balance is affected by this, will it not?"

***

"You wanted to see me, Maude?" Alanna poked her head into the open doorway, spying the older woman sitting at the table. She was picking her way through a batch of herbs.

"Yes, child. Sit, sit, please." Alanna did so, slipping onto the bench across from Maude. "Help me sort through these, hmm?" glancing down at the herbs Maude had pushed towards her, Alanna noted that some were useful in healing, other's were decidedly not. With a nod, she began picking at the ones which were to be useful, trimming them of leaves and stems to leave a bare root.

After a while of this, she realised Maude was simply staring at her. She asked the other woman what she had wanted to talk about. Maude sighed in apparent resignation.

"I suppose you want to know what I saw for you, then." Alanna simply nodded, "Very well. I saw that Thom should go to the City of the Gods, as I said. That much was clear to me, very clear. But with you – I saw nothing. Well, nothing I recognized, anyway. All I had was a name – Winspur."

"Winspur? What does that mean? Is it a place?" Alanna fired off questions at Maude, so confused by what she had been told.

Maude gave a small nod. "I don't know much about it, but I know that it's a small town a few days ride north-east of Corus. I don't know what is there, or why you're supposed to go there, but that's what I saw in the Fire. Winspur."

Alanna just sat there. This seemed too…unreal. Could she still make her way to Corus anyway, and pass herself off as Thom? No, not without Coram and Maude's help, and they seemed to have accepted what Maude saw in the Fire. 

"So I'm to go to this Winspur. Why, exactly?"

"I don't know. I know what I saw, and that's that. You said you'd run away if you were sent to the Convent, but where would you have gone? At least now you have a name to go on."

Sitting there, surrounded by herbs, Alanna realised Maude was right. She had something to go on, whatever it may turn out to be.

***

"Goodbye Maude. Thank you for, well, everything." Alanna reached up and gave Maude a tight hug, the older woman leaning down from her pony. It had been another week since the name Winspur had first been uttered, and Maude and Thom were about to set off for the City of the Gods. Maude gave her a motherly smile, giving Alanna a peck on the cheek.

Maude's smile turned sly as she muttered, "Be good for Coram." A snort from behind her indicated that the man in question had come up behind them, and had heard what Maude had said. Instead of commenting, though, probably out of a desire not to rile Maude's temper, the burly man merely patted her on the shoulder.

"Ye brother's having some difficulty bringin' 'is pack out. Why don' ye go help him, lass?"

***

"Thom?" She called through the hallways of the lower level of the manor. "Thom?"

"Here!"

She found him halfway down the stairs; a large pack on his back seemed to have forced him off balance. He was sitting in a highly awkward position, unable to get up. She laughed at him.

"Stop laughing! It's not funny!"

She laughed harder. He growled at her to help him, and she did. Hauling him onto his feet, she rocked unsteadily as well, but Thom grabbed her and she remained upright. 

"Thanks." She said, but Thom just waved her thanks away. 

"Hey, if you hadn't helped me I'd probably have had to stay here, here on the stairs." He gave her a smile. The smile trembled a little as they both realised this could well be the last time they stood on these stairs for some time. Thom sighed, and reached into his pocket. "I was going to give you this outside, but-" he cut off as he fished a small pendant out, handing it to Alanna. It was a small thing, a silver chain holding a tiny amethyst in silver claws.

"Oh, Thom." Taking it into her hands, she examined it closer.

"S'alright. Father gave me some money to buy some weapons and armour once I'd reached Corus, and since I didn't need them any more…well." He blushed slightly, "Thought it should be spent on the person who convinced me not to end up going."

"Thank you, Thom."

***

"So, probably won't see you for a while."

"Yeah." Thom was sitting on his pony, awkwardly looking down at Alanna. He began to chew his lip, playing with the reigns, anything to relieve the tension. She smiled.

"Thom?"

"Yes?" 

She said nothing, just continuing to smile up at him. He seemed to get the message, and he leant down to hug her. She held back a tear as he moved the pony away from her, riding out to meet with Maude on the road away from Trebond. He was an idiot at times, her brother, but she still loved him. She played with the small pendant he had given her, twisting it around in her hands. Watching till they were just a speck on the road ahead of her, she hardly noticed when Coram came up behind her.

"We should be getting some sleep, lass. Day of riding tomorrow." 

She nodded, and head back into the manor house.

***

Alanna and Coram made their way out of Trebond the next day, heading first to Corus. There they met with a Duke Gareth, and told him of Lord Trebond's change of heart, that young Thom was to follow his dreams of becoming a sorcerer instead. It appeared lucky that Gareth knew of her Father, since he was not surprised that Lord Trebond could be so, as he put it, 'flippant with his son's future'. She still felt a pining for her original plan when they roamed within the Palace, but she was attempting to put such thoughts out of her mind, now. Focus on Winspur, and what awaited her there, rather than what might have been here.

Windspur was reached within the week after leaving Corus, and at first it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. Standard houses, standard farmers, standard Lord. It didn't make sense, and she had told Coram of this many times.

"Aye, lass. Give it time."

She didn't want to give it time

Sure enough, however, Maude's words seemed true enough. For when the two of them were almost despairing in the lack of – well, anything, a stranger arrived to town. A stranger who was, he claimed, of the Shang, willing to test the youth of the town for any possible 'talent'.

***

Time passed, lives changed, destinies diverged from their previous paths. The Queen of Chaos' influence altered much, though none would ever know it. 


	2. Shang

She twisted the pendant between her fingers, the chain catching in some of her hair. With a sigh she adjusted it once more, pulling her hair over the top of the chain. It had always been like this, annoying, irritating, but she couldn't _bear_ to have it away from her. She'd worn it from the moment Thom had given it to her, seven years ago now, till this very moment, and if she had her way she'd never take it off again.

_Thom_, her mind cried, _Thom!_

Her brother. She had not heard from him in four months before that day two weeks ago. Four months, when they had used to exchange letters on the fortnight. The message she had received a fortnight ago was the message she had feared; the notice brought to her from Liam, her Master, proclaiming her brother's death. 

Liam had told Alanna, once she began to grow frantic with worry, that he possessed some 'friends' in Corus who could perhaps find some information out about Thom of Trebond for her – Liam being one of the few she trusted enough to disclose her noble heritage to – and these 'friends' had delivered. Though the news they bore was of the worst kind. 

'Thom of Trebond was found to have died in an accident in his workshop in the Palace of Corus seven weeks ago. No suspicion of foul play, despite previous rumours'

She had given some thought to that last sentence, particularly, worrying over what exactly it meant. Eventually she had given up trying to understand just what was- what _had been_ -going on in Thom's life. They'd tried to keep in contact once Alanna left Tortall to become Shang, but it proved too difficult. Thom's devotion to his studies, as well as Alanna's own teachings, had taken precedence. They'd sent letters for most of this time, Alanna harshly refusing to use her Gift to communicate. She had not used it since the day in Maude's cabin all those years ago – and not a single soul amongst the Shang knew that she was even capable of using it. 

It still hurt, though. The brother she remembered giving her the pendant she wore around her neck, the one she had played tricks on, and with, in her youth. She'd never see him again, and that fact alone made tears well in her eyes. She did not let them fall, of course. 

'To be Shang is to be Stone.' How many times had Liam drilled that into her? He had pressed her to be unfeeling, to be instinctive, to be driven. She had impressed him when she had sent Coram away when she was still only 13 (however much it had hurt her old friend, and herself, when she had done it), true. But she could not be seen to grieve, no matter the reason. She'd not prayed to any God's either, she'd lost all faith in them when Thom had passed on.

"Alanna?" the Shang Master in question popped his head around the corner, his medium length dark hair spilling across his face. "You here?"

"Yes, Liam." She was supposed to call him 'Master Ironarm', or just 'Master' when they were outside, but he didn't mind if she called him by his name in private. She tucked the pendant underneath her shirt once more as he entered, but didn't look up at him as he entered the room.

He walked up to her, crossing the room lithely – Liam was one of the most accomplished Shang in history, and many thought he'd one day become Dragon – before patting her on the shoulder in a display of amicability. Liam rarely displayed his feelings, which made this act all the more telling.

"Come on, Fir- uhh.Alanna." she gave a small smile; he'd been about to call her Firetop, the nickname he'd first used all those years ago when she was introduced to him. She detested it, and had died her hair black a few months ago so as to prevent him from using it. She, of course, had told everyone that she wanted to make herself look less distinctive, but Liam had given her a small smile when he first saw her. He knew why she'd done it, and had stopped using the name since then. Or at least _attempted_ to. "We should be training."

She sighed, and nodded. He was right, of course. She was supposed to be training almost every moment of the day, this late into her training. There was, according to tradition, seven years of training that a Shang Initiate must undertake to be even _considered_ to be raised to Shang. Once the seven years was done, the potential Shang's Master would continue to train them until they believed they were ready to be tested. Liam had told her, recently, that he was confident that she'd be ready to be tested very shortly, and that she must maintain her fitness – the testing could be begun at any time.

Raising herself off the stool, and patting her front to ensure the pendant was still in place, Alanna wandered out of the door, and made her way to the training area; Liam slinking close behind.

***

She walked past the various huts, thatched ones, mainly. This far south they didn't receive much rain, so tiling was a luxury. Her feet stirred up small clouds of dust when they hit the ground, the heat from the ground permeated through the soft leather shoes all Shang Initiates wore. She was used to all this, of course, she had walked this path so often she even knew how many steps it took for her to reach her destination. She knew what was around her almost instinctively now – to her right, the mess hall where Initiates and Shang alike ate, as well as the Initiates' hall where she and the other Shang in training lived. To her left, the bathing tents. Straight in front, well, that's where she was heading now. The training circle.

It was a massive thing, a full hundred paces in diameter. A ring marked out by white chalk, the ground stamped flat by hundreds of feet dancing across it every day. Red dust lay within the circle; perhaps a fitting tribute to the arena in which hundreds of Initiates had been taught to kill.

Of course, Alanna remembered, Shang _was_ aimed at incapacitation and self-defence over killing, but however way you painted it fighting was fighting. She could live with that, however. She had, after all, always wanted to be a warrior and help the unfortunate. Shang was just another way of doing that. She had been excited to join the Shang all those years ago, to be sure, but some small part of her still wanted to meet her youthful dreams. To be a Lady Knight. But, no. Thom's death had revoked all thoughts of 'destiny' and 'Paths' from her mind along with her belief in any higher power – how could they exist, if they had allowed Thom to fall early into his life? 

She glanced up at the sun, which was almost directly overhead by now. Yes, she'd been in her room for a long time. Liam should have come to get her hours ago; the fact that he didn't spoke volumes of his respect for her. However much he may convince her of the benefits of having a heart of Stone, he understood that she was in pain. She would have to find some way to thank him for that, without revealing the fact that she _was_ in pain, of course. Her Master would think less of her if she straight out thanked him for his understanding, especially when he was constantly attempting to harden her to such feelings, but there had to be a way.

But that would have to wait. She had reached the circle. She slipped out of the leather shoes, and removed her heavy jacket, showing the cropped tunic underneath. The sun bore down on her bare arms, but she was well used to the discomfort by now, and she immediately set about tying her hair back in place. 

As the last strands were collected and bound behind her head, she noticed that Liam had not arranged for an opponent. Usually she fought other Initiates, or another Shang – it was considered rude for a Master to directly test his Initiate in full view of other Shang; the equivalent of the Shang either showing off, or being too harsh on his or her student. Alanna frowned, but Liam merely shrugged.

"You will have to fight someone better than you sometime in your life. Why not adjust to the idea now?"

Alanna was taken aback. Shang talked about each other's prowess all the time, true, but this! This was unheard of. Liam was paying her a great compliment, of this she was sure; to imply that she was far superior to all those she had trained with before, that only he – a potential _Dragon_ – could best her, went far beyond normal training. 

Liam kicked his shoes off, before stepping into the circle with her. He gave her a nod, which she returned, and took his place across from her. He opened his palms at his side, and leaned forward on the balls of his feet. 

"Begin!"

***

Alanna slumbered. She had been, as was expected, beaten by Liam earlier, though it had been much closer than she had anticipated. Her speed and grace surpassed Liam's own, which offset his greater finesse and strength, or at least to a point. Still, she was beaten, and returned to her rooms almost in a trance after meal time, falling onto her bed after removing her clothing.

Dreams ran through her head, visions of people and places.

_She stood on a balcony of a Castle, the cold from the rocks seeping into her feet. With a frown, she looked down and realised that she was naked but for an oversized tunic. The sun broke the horizon in front of her, across the deep blue of an ocean, the golden-red veins of light dancing across the sky in a brilliant display._

_"Beautiful, isn't it?"_

_She spun around – taking particular care that the tunic didn't ride up – and came face to face with a painfully handsome man. He looked to be about twenty or so, coal black hair, and with piercing blue eyes. She'd never seen him in her life, and that fact, along with the fact that those eyes were boring into her, made her slightly nervous._

_"Uh, yeah." She answered him weakly. "I've never seen a sunrise from this far west before. Very beautiful." She must be on the west coast; to see the sun rise over the ocean so._

_"I wasn't talking about the sunrise." The man said, softly. _

_His eyes. His eyes._

_He moved towards her. She couldn't move – she couldn't breathe. He reached up and pushed the copper hair out of her face, taking her into his arms, and she w-…_

Gasping for air, Alanna sat up on her bed. The air was _stifling_ hot, and her dark hair was matted to her face with sweat. 

That dream was so…_vivid_. She lay her head back down onto her hard pillow, running what had happened in the dream through her mind. She'd never really considered herself to be a romantic person – being a tomboy in her youth, and having the better part of her teenage years taken up with training and fighting rather than socializing. Oh, not that she hadn't thought about it, no. Some of the other Initiates were _quite_ pleasing to the eye, and when she was younger she had a crush on Liam for a while, but _this_…

The dream was one she'd always imagined a 'proper Lady' would have. It was…beautiful. The sunset, the man – whoever he was, all of it. _Beautiful_. Something she'd never really considered as being, well, _her_. Did she like it, though? Yes. There was no denying that. She wanted to know what the man was going to do to her.

Blushing suddenly, she realised she was behaving just as any simpering maiden would be, gushing over a handsome man – a dream man at that! – Wanting him to press his lips to hers, and to hold her. She shook her head, droplets of sweat flying off, and decided she needed a drink. She pushed herself out of her bed, pulling on a heavy jacket as she did, before making her way outside.

The bitter cold of a southern night greeted her, and her teeth chattered momentarily. Glad that she had slipped on her leather shoes, she swiftly made her way over to the mess hall. It wouldn't be open at this time of the night, but she was still going to be able to get a drink from a waterskin. Her steps were silent in the dark of night, as was the norm for any well-trained Shang (or Initiate), and the Shang village was itself silent. 

She rounded the side of the mess hall, and made her way towards the rear entrance, when she heard the distant crying of a wolf out in the wilderness. She turned her head out of habit, locating the sound as best she could. When she turned back to the doorway, she was shocked to discover someone standing directly in front of her.

Gasping in surprise – why hadn't she head them!? – she took a slight step back, her hands darting to her sides in an instinctive defence position.

"Calm yourself." a woman's lyrical voice soothed Alanna's nerves, and she dropped her hands. As soon as she realised she had, she frowned, and forced them back to where they were before.

"Who are you?" she hissed at the woman. She still couldn't see much of her, but the voice, as well as a _feeling_ she had, made her believe it was a woman. "What are you doing here, I've never seen you before!" Alanna realised she was being sharp, but the woman had appeared out of nowhere!

"I am the Great Mother Goddess." The woman stated in that same lyrical tone. The words were spoken with such gravity and conviction that one almost believed her based entirely on the way she spoke.

Alanna snorted. "And I'm the Emperor of Carthak." 

"If you don't believe me," the woman continued, "Then I see no point in talking with you."

"Fine!" Alanna seethed, before moving towards the door again. The woman didn't move. "Can you move, then, if you don't want to talk with me? I would like to get in that door." The woman looked down her nose at her – definitely a noble. Alanna rolled her eyes, before adding; "Please. Oh Great Mother Goddess." The last said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Surprisingly, the woman took the words at face value. "Good, you're being reasonable. That is a good sign, Alanna of Trebond." Alanna paled, "Oh yes, I know who you are. Even if you yourself have forgotten."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she was getting decidedly aggravated with this woman. Her attitude needed serious adjustment, Alanna decided to herself. As if to prove her thoughts right, the woman waved the question away as if it was of no importance.

"Anyway. Now, since you've decided to be reasonable-" Alanna rolled her eyes, the woman ignored her "-I must talk with you."

"What if I don't want to talk with you? I don't think it's particularly wise to talk with strangers, strangers who appear in the middle of the night out of thin air, and who go around pretending to be Gods! Not to mention the fact that I have had a _very_ strange night, and would like to just get a drink, and go back to sleep! I do have the Shang testing coming soon, and need to be ready for that. So obviously I can't just stop and chat to everyone who comes around!"

"Are you quite finished?" the woman's tone was now icy. "Or are you going to continue acting as a child? I had thought you were almost an adult by now, but obviously I was mistaken."

Alanna glared at the woman – she still couldn't make out much of her features, but she was fairly certain she was glaring directly into her eyes. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Not here. Your room, I think."

"Wha-?" Alanna hadn't even got the word out before the earth lurched under her and tossed her off her feet. She fell to the – hard, not at all dusty – ground with a thud. 

"Much better." The woman sat herself on Alanna's bed, and waited for the girl in question to rise. "Now, Alanna, since you now must recognise that I am who I say I am, I would im-"

"Huh?" Alanna broke in, confused. "Why? Because you…transported me here? A Sorcerer could do that." 

"Perhaps."

"No. Not 'perhaps'. I know what Sorcerer's can do, and I'm not going to believe that you're a God, since they don't exist."

"Why do you say that? Because your brother died?" The words seemed so innocent, and were delivered in such a compassionate fashion, but Alanna saw red.

"Don't you dare bring him into this." She hissed. "My beliefs are just that; my beliefs. And I'll thank you kindly if you keep your snooty nose out of my beliefs and my business."

"Alanna," the woman sighed reproachfully.

"Stop it! Stop saying my name like you know me!" the woman opened her mouth to talk to her again, but Alanna jumped in again; "No! Why don't you just go away, a-a-and leave me alone! Stop pretending to be a god, and just…leave!" a sudden thought struck her, "And don't go putting dreams into my head either like that last one!"

The woman frowned in confusion, shook her head in disbelief, and then sighed in a distinctly frustrated manner. She rose off the bed in a fluid motion, and stalked towards Alanna. "Now listen to me, _Little Girl_, you are going to sit down on that stool, and you are going to listen to what I have to say. You will do so, or I will _make_ it so."

Alanna seethed, but she sat. The woman continued; "Good. You have some wits about you then. Don't roll your eyes. Now, anyway, I came to talk to you about your destiny; your future. It wasn't supposed to be like, well, like _this_."

"What do you mean?" Alanna murmured, her curiosity taking over the more rational part for the moment. "What's wrong with this?"

"Nothing, no. Just that it was supposed to be _different_ in some way. I-I don't know, really." She sighed, "But, no, that's not important. What is important is that you've still got a part to play."

"Lucky me."

"Oh do stop being difficult, Alanna. Honestly, this would be so much easier if you'd learnt some manners." Alanna bit her tongue, "Now, as I said, you've still got a role to play. Things are…different, than what I had foreseen, but I can still tell that you lie at the heart of things. In removing _her_ pawn."

"Huh? Whose pawn?"

"The Queen of Chaos'. Her hand touches this world even now, more so since that unfortunate incident two months ago-" Alanna's breath caught "-Yes. Your brother's death. He was supposed to have a role in the world too, but it seems that things changed for him as much as they have for you."

"What do you know about Thom's death?"

"I know that you don't know enough about it. I know that you are planning to head to Corus to find out anything you can about it."

"How d-? What are you talking about, I'm not planning any such thing."

"Alanna, I know you. You're planning to head there as soon as your training is finished." The woman sat next to her on the bed, "It's understandable. Thom was the only family you ever knew, and you want to know why he's gone, why he was taken away from you. Especially since, well, what happened."

"You-" Alanna choked, she hadn't realised that she was crying, "-you know what happened? To Thom?" the woman shook her head slightly. 

"No more than you, I'm sorry. Whatever happened was shielded from me."

"But you're a Godd- uhm…" the woman smiled, a smile of triumph. Alanna rolled her eyes – she may believe the woman, to an extent, but she wasn't going to soothe her tone. "So even you can't tell me what happened to him? What chance do I have of finding something out, then?"

"I will be honest with you, I do not know. The Queen of Chaos' pawn is skilled. Slippery. I can only tell that she has a hand in matters, not who those hands are touching. But, Corus is the only place that will provide you with answers."

"So I should go there? Follow what I had planned to do anyway?" The woman nodded. "Why do you care what happened to Thom, anyway? How does learning the truth help you?"

"Besides finding out who exactly has called upon the Queen of Chaos' touch, you mean? Very well. That is why I mainly need your aid, I will not lie. But you are important to me, Alanna. You should have been my chosen."

"I wouldn't have asked to be." 

"You should have been my chosen," the woman said again, tightly. "You would have been, so I watch out for you." 

Alanna sighed at that, shaking her head in disbelief. This woman was strange, there was no denying that. Even if she did now believe that she was the Goddess, that didn't really change things. What she had said made Alanna angry, that she was being watched over, but she decided to let it go. "I would be going to Corus anyway, yes. But I want you to do something for me in return." She paused, taking a deep breath, "I want you to stay out of my head. Don't look in on me, or whatever, and stop sending me dreams like you did tonight."

"I didn't send any dreams, Alanna." When Alanna shook her head at that, the woman frowned. "Why do you think that I did?"

"I had a dream that _wasn't_ like me at all, which then woke me up to meet you. I'm fairly certain you can see how I'd reach that conclusion." The woman's lips thinned at Alanna's tone. "Yeah, sorry." She sighed apologetically, "I don't know. This is too much to take in. I just…I just want a drink, at the moment, then to go to sleep." The woman nodded. 

"Very well, Alanna of Trebond. I will speak to you again." She placed a hand on Alanna's shoulder, before pulling out the silver chain that held Thom's pendant around Alanna's neck. Grasping the small amethyst in her fingers, she stared intently at it for a moment.

"What?" Alanna asked.

"Keep this close," the woman's eyes broke from the small jewel, moving up again to Alanna's. "Keep it close to you." Alanna opened her mouth to reply, but the woman vanished. The pendant fell against her chest, and she blinked in astonishment.

"Well," she said to herself, pushing aside all thoughts of Goddesses and of the future, "time to get that drink."

***

She awoke in the morning strangely invigorated, as if she hadn't spent a fair hour or so of the night talking with a stranger. The aches she still possessed from the bout with Liam yesterday seemed to be a lot less than they should have been, for which she was thankful. She had originally felt somewhat aggravated by the fact that the woman had done something to her, violated her, in some fashion, but this disappeared once Liam sought her out.

"Come, Alanna. The testing awaits."

***

She was blindfolded, in a room that she _knew_ that she'd never set foot in before. Her palms ached, she'd been fighting for what seemed like _ages_; with swords, with staves, with fists and feet, and she'd seemed to appease them. Whoever 'they' were, she'd hear voices occasionally telling her of her success, or the like. After the previous 'victory', she'd been blindfolded and walked to this room.

"Now we will test your senses. Be ready, be calm."

She exhaled softly, beginning to concentrate as best she could. No matter how far she had come, utter stillness had never been easy for her to reach. She tried to hone her senses, listening, feeling, even smelling her surroundings.

A whistling sound in front of her telegraphed movement, and she lithely twisted her shoulders, letting – whatever it was – pass by her. She pivoted, bringing her fist around into the attacker. The hardness beneath her knuckles indicated that she'd been too fast for her attacker, striking him solidly on the temple. The man went down with a loud moan, and she nimbly skipped backwards in case he tried to grasp her.

Another sound behind her caught her off balance, a foot striking her in the back of her knee before she was able to fully turn to face the new threat. She gasped in pain, before rolling with the fall, coming to her feet facing – hopefully! - whoever had just struck her. A footfall in front of her told her that the man was advancing towards her, and she dropped to the ground, swinging a leg out wide to trip him. She heard a slight curse as he jumped the leg, though he'd been clipped by it on the way through, and she rolled to the side. Propping herself up on one knee, she cocked her head for a moment, hoping to catch anything that would betray the man's location. 

She heard nothing. It was as if the man had disappeared. She rose to her feet swiftly, taking a defensive position as she continued to listen attentively. The Shang Masters would tell her when she had succeeded, and it would be only then that she would relax. Remembering one of the most basic lessons Liam had taught her, she swiftly moved forwards, feet almost flying across the floor, hoping to attack before the man had time to play on her weakness. If she allowed him to dictate how things proceeded, she would constantly be at a disadvantage. It would be the best form of de-

There! A shifting of feet off to her left. Changing direction in the blink of an eye, Alanna sprang towards the man's position. With her hair flailing around her, she leapt headfirst into the man – he surely wouldn't be expecting that. Indeed, he barely had time to mutter a curse before she barreled into him, her shoulder striking his chest solidly, expelling his breath in a deep 'Oof'. Her momentum carried them into the wall of the building, shaking the structure as the man slumped against it. She hurriedly pulled herself up his chest, taking his head between her hands, as was the customary 'kill position' of the Shang. Twisting someone's neck was not the most dignified ways of killing someone, but at least it always worked. 

"You are successful." Came the voice of a Shang Master, a different one than had been talking before. "You may remove the blindfold." She did so, hurriedly clambering off the man in front of her. With a shock, she realised that he was very badly injured, his head having collided with the wall when he fell backwards. With a muttered curse she propped his head up, turning him on his side to hopefully prevent any lasting damage. "Leave him for now," the voice continued, "Please make your way out of the door."

She glanced up, seeing the large door to her right. With a last worried look at the prone man before her, she made her way to the door. Opening it, she was greeted by Liam's stony face. A slight grin tugged at his lips, and he bade her to follow him. She fell in behind him as he strode off, quietly massaging her hands. Liam led her into a cavernous room, a good thirty paces across, in which sat a number of Shang Masters arranged in a circle around the center of the room.

"Alanna." Liam motioned that she should stand in the middle of the Shang, which she did, before he strode out of the room. A Shang could not take any role in his or her own Initiates' testing, beyond that of  'guide'. 

"Alanna," One of the Masters began – of course, they'd no knowledge of her proper title. She was just 'Alanna' among the Shang, even Liam knew not to think of her as a noble – "You have successfully passed the testing." There. Simple as that. "You are now Shang." A smile spread across her lips, but she fought down the urge to laugh with relief. Barely. She thanked the Master who had spoken, as well as all the other's, and received their congratulations. She noted, with some amusement, that two of the Shang congratulated her a little different than the others. The Shang Bear, a large burly man (who she'd always imagined tried to look and live just like his namesake), was a tad sour with his. He'd never really liked her, and unless she was mistaken, the man she had injured in the testing was his Initiate. The other being the Shang Gryphon, a woman who – at least, until today – had been the youngest female Shang ever. She had often aided and sparred with Alanna, and the two had been somewhat close.

Not that Alanna really kept any close companions here. Liam was the person she was closest to here, and while he was a friend…well, Liam was confusing, to say the least. Some times he was very amicable, asking questions about her youth, making her laugh with stories of his own, he'd even once told her of the women that he had loved in his life, though she was a bit disturbed by _that_ conversation! Other times, however, he'd be almost harsh to her, calling upon her to 'harden her heart' as if it was the most important part of her training. She didn't really understand his split nature, but he _was_ one of her only friends here.

 The Shang Gryphon had embraced her, calling her 'Sister' and wishing her well. Alanna had thanked her formally – as was appropriate, and then was guided to sit with the other Masters. Liam was brought back in, and she was a tad surprised to see a wide smile on his face that beamed when he locked eyes with her. A slight nod in her direction conveyed his congratulations, before he too was seated.

"Brothers and sisters," another Shang began, "We add to our numbers today. Who here will support this Newly Raised?" Alanna had not been told of this part of the testing, though Liam had mentioned a number of rituals that accompanied the testing. She supposed that this must be it. 

"I will." Liam responded.

"As will I." The Gryphon added,

"And I will make it three," the Shang who had begun the ritual added, "Three of us to Guide our newest sister through her life, to watch and aide her, should she require it." Alanna frowned slightly, it may well be ritual, but it certainly sounded rather constraining! The Shang who seemed to be leading the ceremony waved to her, "Come then Sister. Come and join us." She looked around in confusion for a moment, before she saw Liam's supportive smile. She made her way over to the Shang, who took her head in his hands. "And on this day do we raise you, Alanna, to the rank of Shang Warrior."

A mighty roar reverberated through the room, with everyone present crying out in approval. Alanna was taken aback slightly, before smiling and joining in the wild cry. 

"What is to be her title?" the Gryphon's soft voice asked, after the cry had died down. A few other Shang nodded. 

Liam, who had moved over beside her now, whispered to her lowly, "They mean what you will be called. Like the Gryphon, or the Wolf." She nodded to him in thanks. 

One of the Masters, the Shang Jackal, one of the few Masters besides Liam and the Gryphon who had been with her for any length of time, spoke up. "I have considered this for a while, prior to her testing." There was a slight murmur – it was strange for a Master to consider an Initiates 'success' before the testing, "And I believe that the Falcon would best represent our New Sister."

The Shang nodded, before Liam stated with pride, "Then let her be born! Our newest Sister, Alanna, the Shang Falcon!"

***

"So what will you do now?" Liam stood in the doorway to Alanna's room, leaning up against the doorjamb. "I take it you're not going to stay around here?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm heading to Corus." He nodded, but gratefully didn't say anything. She was packing, at the moment. Stuffing in the few tunics and breeches that she owned into a bag. She threw a glance down at the soft leather shoes underneath her bed, before throwing them into the bag as well. She turned to Liam, about to ask a question of him, when he held up his hand.

"One moment." She frowned, wondering what he was doing. He ducked back out of the doorway, before picking up a package in his hands. He passed it to her. "A small present." She took it with a questioning grin, opening the package to find just what she'd been looking for – some boots. 

A wide smile spread over her face as she examined them. "Oh, Liam." He held up his hand to forestall any comment. "Thank you." 

He smiled at her. "Well, Firetop – don't roll your eyes at me Alanna – looks like this is goodbye." He moved over to her, "Remember to get in contact with my friends in Corus."

"George Cooper at the Dancing Dove. I got it."

"Good. I-" he looked down at his feet for a moment, "I'm going to miss you, Firetop."

"I didn't know you cared, Liam." She said, grinning to take the sting out of it. He chuckled slightly. "And here I thought that you followed your own advice. All this talk of 'hardening the heart' was just a way to piss me off, wasn't it?" 

"Oh you know it was, Alanna." He was grinning widely too, now. She stood there, looking into his grey-green eyes for a moment, basking in their friendship. She knew that he was just fooling with her, he'd never have taught her anything he didn't think she should follow. He gave a weary sigh, patting her on the shoulder. "You will do well, Falcon of Shang." After a moment, he drew her into a tight hug.

Startled, it took her a moment, but she hugged him back with a similar ferocity. When they pulled apart for a while, he was blushing slightly, as was she.

She looked up at him, before whispering; "I'll miss you too, Liam."

She hurriedly turned back to her packing, placing the boots reverently beside the bed, before jamming some more of her meager supply of personal possessions into the bag. 

When she had turned around, he was gone.

***

She strapped the bag to the horse the Shang – the other Shang – had given to her, making sure that the bindings were tight enough. After ensuring that the other provisions she had requested were lashed to the beast as well, she mounted it swiftly. She turned the animal about, before setting away from the Shang village at a leisurely trot.

***

_Her breath misted in front of her as she rode through the dark forest, a dark cloak flapping behind her as she urged her mount on faster. A laugh bubbled itself out of her as she sped through the foliage, the exhilarating thrill of the ride mingling with the delightful thrill of what would happen were she to be caught. _

_Her dark cloak flapped behind her, the colour matching those of her dark breeches and tunic, as she gripped the reigns tightly in her gloved hands. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw His large black stallion pounding the ground behind her. _

_With another laugh, she shouted over her shoulder. "You won't catch me!"_

_She heard him grunt, and urge his horse faster. Pushing her own mount, she maneuvered it through the dense woodland, ducking under branches and watching for roots. She threw another glance backwards, and noticing her pursuer gaining ground, flapped her reigns, urging the horse to go faster._

_She risked another glance back, and noticed that she'd stretched the distance a little. With a satisfied smirk, she loosened the grip on the reigns. After all, it wasn't quite as fun if he didn't catch her, and sh-_

_The air rushed out of her as a branch slammed into her chest, picking her up off the horse and depositing her onto the mossy ground in a surprisingly painless maneuver. Her head thumped into the soft moss with a dull thump, and her cloak tangled itself between her legs. But…she felt nothing. No pain, no injury at all. She frowned a little at that._

_"Alanna!" a worried voice called out, before the heavy thud of hoofbeats sounded nearby. The large black stallion rode into the clearing, it's rider dropping to the ground beside it almost as soon as the horse began to slow. Reins in hand, he rushed towards her, dropping to his knees beside her. "Are you alright?" he asked, breathlessly._

_She looked into those crisp blue eyes, and, again, all words seemed to fail her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, before settling for a nod of the head. He smiled at her, putting his hand on her cheek and settling some of her copper hairs that had strayed. He dropped the hand to her midriff, laying it down about where the branch had hit her. "Are you sure? You seemed to hit very hard."_

_"N-no, I'm fine." She smiled tremulously. The hand on her midriff began to trace small circles there, and her breath caught in her throat. Those piercing eyes held her own, and she shivered in delight. "Maybe you should check, though." _

_He roared with laughter, his booming voice reverberating through his arms and into her body. He moved the hand around to her waist, raising her towards him slightly. She raised her own hands, running her fingers through his silky hair. He gave her a smile, before quietly leaning into her, bringing his lips to hers in a pleasantly crushing embrace…_

She jerked up, the blankets of her sleeping pallet drenched in sweat. Frowning; she'd been out of the hot climate of the southlands for some time by now, she shouldn't be sweating so profusely. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, before pushing herself to her feet and stumbling over to the waterskin. 

Taking a deep draught, she gasped. The dreams hadn't stopped coming, night after night of various scenarios with herself and this blue eyed, black haired man. She might have enjoyed them, truth be told, if she had any say in which way they would go. Tonight's was particularly perplexing – she seemed to be acting as any Lady might under the man's gaze, but she was dressed as she was normally. In a tunic and breeches. 

Not that the man's ministrations were particularly unpleasant, just that they were confusing, to say the least. She'd never met any man who looked remotely like this fantasy did, after all. And that's all it was, she chided herself, a fantasy. Nothing more. She couldn't let it distract her from what she had set herself.

A quick look to the west showed her that the village she had camped near was beginning to stir. She'd arrived in the area late last night, but had decided to delay her arrival till the morning. She knew that these small towns were somewhat perturbed by strangers arriving in the middle of the night, and she hadn't want to create a fuss. The sky was beginning to brighten, though, and it appeared that dawn wasn't far off.

She set about clearing up her belongings, before organizing Swift's tack. She'd named the horse on a whim, it wasn't much like her to do so, but she decided that she couldn't be Alanna the Shang Initiate forever. She'd have to define herself somehow beyond that, and naming her horse seemed like a place to start. Kicking the ashes of the fire, she set off towards the village, the dawn just breaking as she set off.


	3. Isleton

The sun was fairly high in the sky before she had reached what appeared to be the main house in the village. Children had been following her for a time now, peeking around doorways and clambering onto fences to follow her. She grinned a little; at least the children seemed to enjoy her presence.

She couldn't say the same about the adults, though. The few who had seen her walking in had narrowed their eyes at her, and a few had even gone as far as to turn their backs on her. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting, but this was a little harsh, she felt. She'd have to keep sharp, just in case. Regardless, she strolled up to the large building – which she noted, thankfully, was an inn – and cracked the door open.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

A small pudgy man shuffled out to meet her, "Ah? Yes? Can I 'elp you?" 

Alanna nodded. "Yeah, have you got any rooms free? And a place in the stables for my horse?" the man blinked, "Also, if you wouldn't mind, I'd be willing to purchase some provisions off you."

"Ah, no. No rooms free. Sorry." Alanna frowned; there was no one else in sight. She'd not seen another traveler on the road for days, and the looks she got when coming into town gave her the impression that outsiders' weren't exactly commonplace around here. "But I'd be willing to trade for some supplies, yes, yes." He beckoned her to follow.

"My horse?" she queried warily, "What should I do with her?"

"Oh, right." The man shook his head in embarrassment, "Sorry." He stepped past her, showing her around to the side of the inn. Opening the large doors, he stepped through into the stables, and she followed. As she had expected, the place was empty. Bales of hay lined the sides of the stalls, but there was not another horse in sight. "I'm Bayle. Please, stable your horse." she did so, unfastening some of the belts and straps holding tack to the animal. 

Bayle gave the horse an approving look. "Fine animal."

"Thank you."

"How much did you pay for 'er?"

"I didn't," Alanna replied, "She was a gift." The man looked surprised. "To mark the end of my training." She clarified.

"Training?"

She nodded slightly. She felt somewhat self-conscious, but supposed that it did no harm to tell the man. "I am Shang." 

His eyes almost popped out of his head. "You? But you're a…" he swallowed tightly, before clutching his hand to his forehead. "Mithros! A Shang 'ere in Iselton!"

"Isleton?" Alanna asked, ignoring what the man almost said, "Is that the name of this village?" the man nodded, "I've heard of it, I think. Two weeks ride east of Corus, right?" 

"Three, more likely." The man clarified, "There's been an increase o' bandits in the area, so the roads aren't safe to travel swiftly. Uh, not that you'd need protection, uhh…m'Lady."

"I'm not a noble," Alanna made a vexed sound, "My name is Alanna. And what do you mean about bandits?" 

Bayle looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Oh, nothing, no. Just the usual problems, really."

"Are you sure? It's not anything I could help you with, is it?" the man's eyes shined for a moment, as if he wanted to smile. But he merely shook his head stiffly. "Please tell me, Bayle. I've noticed that this – Isleton – doesn't seem to like outsiders. Is that related to the bandits?"

He grimaced. "Uhh, no. No. Not re- No." he was stuttering, and Alanna fixed him with a level look. "Well, uh. Maybe." All of a sudden it seemed a dam had burst inside of him, words tumbled out almost faster than she could make out. "It's not the bandits that worry us! Well, not really. They's awful, no mistaking that. But it's Lord Malven that really worries us! 'E took over from his father when 'e perished; oh but 'e was a good Lord, let us keep to ourselves, always concerned for the smallest hamlet in 'is writ, he was. But 'is son don't look beyond Malven itself! We've tried to contact 'im, get 'im to move on the bandits in the region, but 'e just ignores us! There's even rumours that _'e's_ the one behind the bandits; that 'e's using them to line out his coffers with extra money. Oh, Mithros! But none o' us want to complain about him, I mean. 'E is the Rightful Lord, and 'e's supposed to be on good terms with the Prince 'imself! What can we do?" the man trailed off, somewhat startled at all that he had revealed to this stranger.

"So you don't like outsiders coming in, since they could be bandits?" she asked, confused. Bayle shook his head, before glancing around conspiratorially. 

"We've 'eard talk that there's…" he lowered his voice, "_Spies_ about. Lord Malven's men. Reporting back to 'im." 

She sighed. This 'Lord Malven' sounded the epitome of everything she hated about nobility. Excess and exploitation. She wouldn't be surprised if he met up to the third 'E', etiquette, either. "Look, Bayle, could I stay here? Just tonight, if need be. I've been traveling for weeks, and would really appreciate a soft bed to sleep in. And a nice meal." Cooking wasn't really her forte, after all.

A smile spread across his face. "Oh, yes, yes m'Lady. Sorry, err, Alanna." He patted Swift on the neck. "I 'ave a good feeling about you, I do."

***

Bayle had fixed her up in the best room he had, before announcing that he'd get his wife to cook her a meal that she'd not soon forget. He also told her that she could take anything from the storeroom she wanted, with adequate restitution, of course. She thanked him, before retiring to the room for a while, kicking off her boots and laying back down on the bed. She closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers twining around the sliver chain of Thom's pendant. 

_Oh Thom!_

Her eyes opened, and the sky out of the window was a deep red. She frowned, before rolling to her feet, thumping her feet into her boots as she did so. She found a bowl of soup on a side table, with a note stating that Bayle had found her asleep, and did not wish to wake her. Cursing herself for falling asleep, she wandered out of the doorway and down to the main room of the inn to apologise to the innkeeper. As she made her way down the stairs, she noticed loud voices coming from outside.

…"just give us the 'orse, old man." Came a particularly grating voice, "We saw 'er – the young missus – ridin' in on it, and it looked a pretty one. So just tell us where it is, and well take it, and be off. You dun have to get 'urt, this time, we just want the 'orse!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, eh?" Bayle's frightened voice answered, "The girl did come by 'ere, yeah, but she went off again! 'Onest!"

"Then 'ow come we ain't seen 'er going out?"  
"I dunno, maybe you ain't looking 'ard enough!" Alanna winced, it seemed as if the grating man had punched Bayle for his cheek. She decided that it would be rude of her not to go and speak to the men who apparently wanted Swift, and checking that her boots were laced properly, made her way out the door.

"You said it was a fine animal, Bayle," the men standing around were startled by her sudden entrance, their leader releasing his grip on Bayle, "but I didn't think I'd have people looking to take it off my hands _this_ soon." The men had regained their poise, if it could be called that, and she took a good look at them. There were three of them that she could see, but it wouldn't have surprised her if there were more out of the city limits. Three men with swords and bows, wearing what appeared to be leather jerkins. The leader – Grating Guy – was a tall man with a sour look on his face. Seeing that it was merely the 'young missus', his lip curled into a sneer and he waved his men back.

"Aw, look. It's the girl, the one you," he spat at Bayle, "said weren't 'ere. You lied to me, Bayle, and I dun like liars."

"But you're fine with pathetic lowlifes, I take it?" Alanna shot back. She didn't normally like to chat with her opponent, it seemed to unnerve them when she remained silent, but this guy was begging for it. He sneered at her again, and strode towards her, attempting to look menacing.

"Now, what t' do with you, the black 'aired beauty." Alanna rolled her eyes, "I think we'll take your 'orse, and we'll take you too, back to the camp, and 'ave a bit 'o fun with you, eh lads? I think she'll be a bit 'o a firecracker, not like the other girls." the other men laughed, while the leader shot her a lascivious grin. 

She curled up her face in disgust. This was the kind of person who made the rest of humanity look bad, and she couldn't muster a shred of regret for what she knew was coming. Instead of lashing out, however, she simply went on in a smooth tone; "I'm going to give you one chance to leave this place. Leave here, go back to your Lord Malven, and tell him that Iselton doesn't need him any more."

"Now, sweetie," the man gave her a mocking grin, his followers almost rolling in laughted, "Why would we go to this 'Lord Malven' and tell 'im this? Are you going to 'it me if I don't?"

"No." _I'll kill you._ Alanna mentally added, astonished to find that she honestly believed it. What he had said about 'other girls' made her see red. The man's grin widened, and he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, beginning to draw it out.

"That's a good girl, now why don't you get yourself ready, and we'll take you out t-" he cut off as Alanna lithely stepped into his guard, slamming her hand down on the half drawn sword, slamming it back into the hilt. Her other hand slammed upwards, catching the man on the chin. His mouth shut with a painful click, and his eyes widened – it appeared that he'd bitten into his tongue. His hands flew to his jaw in alarm, and she skipped backwards away from him for a moment. 

The men behind him were starting to stop their laughter now, and at least one of them had already reached for his sword. She'd have to do this quickly. She quickly launched herself at the large man, left foot catching him on his wide chest, toppling him over. She fell with him, coming up with her knees on either side of his head. She reached down quickly, grapping the sides of his head, and twisted. Eyes filled with rapidly fading disbelief greeted her as she let go of his head, pushing herself to her feet.

The other two men were staring at their leader's body, eyes and mouths wide open. She took the opportunity to slink over to the one who was already grasping his sword, taking his sword hand in both of hers. With a quick twist, she snapped the mans' wrist, grabbed the falling sword, and slammed it into his chest. She turned to the other man, pulling the sword out with a wet slurp as she twisted her torso, and held the red blade steadily towards him. 

"Go back to your camp. Tell them what happened here tonight, and tell them that if any one of them continues to bandit the area, that they'll suffer the same fate." He just stared at her. "Go!" He ran.

As soon as he had disappeared from her sight, she dropped the sword to the ground, sinking to her knees alongside it. She breathed in huge gulps of air, anything to make her head stop spinning. She'd killed someone, on purpose. She'd accidentally killed a fellow Initiate during her training, but Shang training was hard. People died every year, it wasn't seen as being her fault, though Liam had worried about her slightly for a week afterwards. Worried for _her_, not the boy who had died. But this, this was different. She remembered the man's head in her hands as she turned his neck around – she'd literally held his life in her hands, and had snuffed it out without thought. It was a strange sense of…power, that she felt; having absolute control over the man's future. 

Frowning, she wondered why she was thinking of it like that. She hadn't meant to kill him, had she? He had made her angry, so very angry, with his talk of rape and her remembering Bayle's words earlier – thinking that this man, and other's liked him, had ruined the lives of so many people, she just lashed out. Maybe she had intended to kill him, at that. She looked over at the man's face; that look of disbelief still evident. So he'd thought her merely a harmless girl, had he? Maybe those who heard about this would think a little more about forcing themselves on women in the region.

Sighing, she raised herself to her feet, and noticed Bayle's scared expression. She looked down at the blood on her hands, noticing the slight trembling in them, before she told him calmly that she'd only stay for the night, and be gone out of the village by morning.

"Oh," he replied. "Oh, mistress. I thank you for this. I really do." He didn't look particularly pleased, however. "But I worry 'bout you, now. 'E," he motions to the burly leader, "Was one of the 'igh ranking sorts, I spose you'd say. They'll be wanting to get you back, oh mark my words. Yes, yes." He was wringing his hands together in fear, before noticing that she was still standing still. Staring at her hands as if there was nothing else in the world. "Miss? I-it might be best if you come in, now."

"Pardon? Oh, yes. Thank you Bayle." He gave her a weak smile, before opening the door for her. She noticed that he tried to stay quite a distance from her as she passed. 

"Don't you worry, miss. We'll get this cleaned up, and I'll bring you some soup." She nodded her thanks, making her way up the stairs as she heard Bayle call out for some of his neighbours to help him move the bodies.

***

She lay awake all night, thinking back to what she had done earlier. She knew that she was probably justified in killing the man; he had almost undoubtedly ordered the deaths of numerous innocent people, not to mention destroying the lives of many more, but she couldn't help wondering what would have happened had she just immobilized him. A touch of pressure to two points near the neck, and he would have been gasping for air, unable to do anything.

Still, as Liam had told her many times over, those kinds of things were often too fancy for their own good – he'd told her how he had attempted to immobilize an opponent during the middle of a fight, only for the man to somehow shrug it off and tackle him from behind. No, better to stick with what you knew would take someone out of the fight.

Clutching the pendant between her clean hands, she stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the man's face as she told herself over and over again that she had done the right thing.

***

_"I killed him."_

_She stood over a black shape – a man? – clutching a bloody sword. A pool of blood was quickly spreading from the dead body, moving across the stone floor seemingly with a mind of it's own. _

_"He would have killed you. He was planning to kill me, too." She looked up, it was the Fantasy-man again, his eye's now sorrowful as he watched her. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly before taking her into his arms. "You did the right thing, he was an evil man."_

_Sighing into his chest, she stuttered, "But I-I could have…"_

_"What?" he asked he softly, "Knocked him unconscious? Tripped him up?" he shook his head, "No. You were in the heat of combat; you didn't know what would happen. Besides," he added scornfully, "he used his Gift against you. I don't think anyone can hold it against you that you killed him."_

_"He didn't use his Gift." She said, slowly. "I don't think he was Gifted."_

_The Fantasy man frowned, his clear blue eyes puzzled. "Alanna, of course he had the Gift. He was the most accomplished Sorcerer in Tortal, remember?" she shook her head in denial, in puzzlement, before pulling out of his embrace. Staring up into his handsome face, she again realised that she had no idea who he was._

_"Who_ **_are_**_ you?"_

_"Mistress Alanna."  
She frowned. "Huh?"_

_"Mistress Alanna!"_

"Mistress Alanna!" rough hands shook her shoulders.

Her eye's shot open, her hands reaching for the person attacking her. Right arm snaking towards their throat, left hand balling into a fist a-

Seeing Bayle's terrified expression, she quickly pulled both arms down to her sides again. 

"Sorry! It's just," she searched for a way to explain it, and found she couldn't. Blushing, she apologized again. Bayle waved it away tremulously.

"Ahh, yes, yes. I'm fine. My fault." He nodded to himself, "But there's someone downstairs who wishes to see you, Mistress Alanna!" She frowned, "Lord Malven 'imself!" he added, paling.

She too felt a little queasy. It had been her plan to slip out of the village at first light, to ensure that when the Lord Malven descended upon Isleton, she had distanced herself from the people there, hopefully forcing the man to follow her away from the village. How did he get here so quickly? Muttering a curse, and deciding that it probably wouldn't do for her to escape out the window, she told Bayle to go downstairs and tell this Lord Malven that she would be out shortly. 

As he left, she put her face into her hands and groaned. She hadn't really wanted to get involved in this in the first place, to be honest. She'd felt some kindlings of wanting to be a hero when she heard Bayle's tale last night of the bandits, true. But what happened after that, with the three men, had made her regret ever stopping in Isleton. She felt for the farmers, to be sure, but this was proving too complicated for her. She just wanted to get to Corus and deal with matters there.

But life isn't simple, she told herself. Things change. Pulling on some breeches and lacing up her boots, she strapped on her sword and went downstairs to meet the infamous Lord Malven.

***

He was an ugly man, unruly hair framing a face dominated by a hideous burn mark. She had no idea what caused it, but she had no doubt that the man in front of her had taken pleasure in exacting his revenge for it. He didn't seem the type to let things slide easily, which was probably why he was here in person.

As she stepped down off the last step, he noticed her, giving her a look that was both incredulous and dismissive at the same time. "This is the warrior that killed Aziz and Tylon?" he said disbelievingly. "She's tiny!"

Alanna giggled to herself. "From all accounts," she lied – she had never really heard of him before yesterday, after all; "You of all people should know that size does not make the person."

He turned bright red, his left eye twitching in anger. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to insult him straight off the mark. His left hand had moved towards his sword hilt, fingers closing and opening along its lacquered length.

"Murderer!" He spat, "Murdering bitch! _Common_, murdering bitch!" his emphasis clearly placing 'common' as the worst of his insults. "I'll have your hide for what you did; your head! – And I'll enjoy doing it all the more for that remark!"

She rolled her eyes. "Is that all? Bayle, you said it was important. Maybe I should have slept in for a while." Oh well. If they're already angry, not much more to do than try to get them angrier. She could almost hear Liam's voice – _Emotion is the bane of the fighter. Harden the heart!_ Bayle's mouth dropped open at her words, and Lord Malven quivered with rage. She was a bit worried that he'd pull out his sword here and start attacking her, but – no. He was a Knight, and he would respect their traditions. Well, to a point, anyway. She was, to Malven's mind, a commoner, so he shouldn't attack her in the first place. Doubly so because of her gender.

But she had a feeling that he'd be attempting to kill her himself. He was the 'hands on' type, luckily for her. She wouldn't have to worry about injuring some poor sod that was only following orders. She just hoped the man was stupid enough to challenge her.

"That is…! The utter gall of you, woman! I'll have your head for this!" and with that, he turned, walking towards the doorway. "If you step outside this inn, I will take my sword to you myself!"

She grinned. Near enough a challenge. She had to give him credit – he'd allowed her a way out of the contest, thus saving face in attacking a female commoner, but he knew that she would understand what it was. She gave a slight nod towards him, and watched as the men who had accompanied Malven, four or five men, followed him outside.

Bayle stood in the middle of the room, a quizzical expression on his face. When he noticed her looking at him, he jumped slightly. "Ah, Miss Alanna. You're not going to, uh; kill 'im too are you? Not that any of us would really mind, no, no, just that you might get the King on your heel if you do kill one o' 'is nobles."

She put on a show of thinking for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger. "No, Bayle. I'll just rough him up a little. Tell him to shape up. Hopefully he'll be so furious about being beaten by a woman that he'll keep it to himself, not getting the King involved." Bayle nodded, and she went trotted outside after the most _Dishonourable Lord_ Malven.

***

Of course, even she didn't know how quickly the 'fight' would be over. She knew she would beat him, to be Shang was to be the best, but still. She was actually a shade dubious as to whether or not Lord Malven actually _was_ a Knight.

Putting a foot out the door, she had immediately realised that Malven wasn't with the rest of his men across from her. A scream from beside her betrayed his position, and she pivoted smoothly to avoid the knife blade that Malven was swinging towards her shoulder. Hands like lightning; she grasped the man's arm, using his own momentum to overextend the strike, burying the knife blade deep into the flesh of Malven's own thigh. 

The man's eyes rolled back in pain, and fell to the ground. Alanna rolled her eyes, both at the ease of the maneuver, and of the rather effeminate shrieking sound coming from Malven's throat. She sank to her knees.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" she asked him, before grasping the hilt of the knife. "Now, let's talk about the way you treat these people." She violently jerked the knife to one side, causing the man to scream again. His men began to advance towards her; "Tell your goons to back off, Malven." 

Lord Malven looked at her for a moment, before spitting out "Kill the bitch!"

"Wrong answer, Malvy." She grinned, jerking the knife again, eliciting yet another screech.

"Ok! Ok! Get back! Don't touch her!" 

She smiled wildly, "Good. You can see reason when it's, well, stabbing you in the thigh." She laughed at her own joke, Malven looked at her warily. "Anyway. I'm going to be keeping an eye on what happens around here, after I leave I mean. And if I hear that things are still pretty bad up here…well. Let's just say that this knife will be about a foot higher." She traced her fingers up his chest, laying them around his chest. She pointed the fingers of one hand, jabbing him in the heart with them, almost giggling when he jumped back in shock. With a look at Malven's men hanging around, she quickly wrenched the dagger out of their Lord's thigh.

"Aaah! Vicious cow!"

She just laughed at him, before waving the knife at the other men. "If I were you, I'd be looking for a new job." She tossed the knife to the ground, "And if I hear about one single blade of grass that you trample on the way out of here, I will personally come and smack you all around a little."

And with that, she walked back into the inn, slamming the door as she did, a self-satisfied smirk playing on her features.

***

It was the next morning, and after a day of being toasted as the 'hero of Isleton', she had decided that it was probably best for her to get going, before she got too used to this kind of treatment. She did enjoy herself, certainly, be she couldn't help thinking that she was somewhat of a fraud. After all, anyone could have done what she did, Malven was an idiot. Admittedly, an idiot with no morals and a lot of gold, but she just didn't let that intimidate her, that's all. Nothing heroic in that. 

So she harnessed Swift, and pulled herself up onto the saddle. Bayle had packed the horse with enough provisions for the entire season, it had seemed, and she had to actually take a few of them out to fit her other belongings on. The ride out was far different than the ride in, with the villagers giving her big smiles, waving at her, thanking her. 


	4. Corus

Putting Isleton out of her mind, she concentrated on Corus. By Bayle's reckoning, she should be about three weeks away. Three long weeks, at that. Winter was closing in, and from what she remembered about the climate this far north, it would be getting very chilly very quickly. 

One night, as she marked down her progress on a map Bayle had given her, she noticed that if she were to take the northern road from where she was, she would end up in Trebond. She read the name in silence, tracing the letters almost reverently. But no, she couldn't abandon what she had set out to do on a whim to see her birth place again. Besides, her father wouldn't want to see her, she knew that. He'd tell her how ashamed he was of her actions, how he was so 'put out' because of her actions over seven years ago. Sighing, she decided to put thoughts of Trebond out of her mind. He never really was her father, anyway, and with Thom gone there wasn't much point dwelling on her noble past. The only reason why she would consider going back would be to see Coram, but she was fairly sure even _he_ wouldn't want to see her; she had said some harsh things when they had parted company.

She rolled the map up, placed it back in one of the saddlebags, and stretched out for the night.

***

She dreamt again, a peaceful interlude between herself and the Fantasy man in some extravagant gardens. When she awoke, she touched her lips, somewhat disappointed that they weren't swollen from kissing. Looking down, she also noted that she was in about the same state of dress as she had been in the dream. She blushed to herself, and pulled on some breeches. None but Swift could see the happy grin playing across her face.

***

Corus arched up around her, a grey mass sprawling across the landscape. Smoke rose from chimney's all around the city, turning the sky the same colour as the ground. The stench was incredible, sweat, waste and numerous other scents she couldn't identify. The noise was overbearing, clanging and shouting coming from all directions at the same time.

It was the most amazing sight she had ever witnessed. She had been here seven years ago, true, but she hadn't remembered it to be like _this_. This phenomenal…entity! The city _pulsed_ around her, life could be seen everywhere you looked. Merchants, workmen, Nobles, thieves…

She smiled as she thought on the last one. She was a gawking foreigner to the people here, she supposed. And with a horse like that, and bulging saddlebags, she _must_ have many items of value on her. She'd been the target of many pickpockets so far, attempting to snatch items as Swift cantered past. Some lightning fast kicks to their hands had discouraged them, it seemed, some even giving her a grin when they realised she knew what they were doing. She held nothing against thieves, it was just another way of earning a living, though one she herself would never contemplate. Besides, most of them seemed to only consider nobles as 'fair targets', and she could see nothing wrong with that logic.

"Miss! Miss! Would ya' like t' try one 'o these?" a man pointed to some kind of pastry on a small table beside him, "Only 'half a copper!"

"No, thank you."

"Miss! You look like the sort th-!" 

"No, thank you."

"Miss!"

"No, tha-"

"Miss!"

"No,"

"Miss!"

She rode on, the city was something she had never expected, and it engendered a kind of buzz in her being, a buzz of shared life and curiosity, but it was somewhat overbearing, as well. She hoped to have found the inn she was looking for by now, she truly wished to rest. She'd been on the road since very early this morning, hoping to reach Corus by midday and spend the rest of the day hunting 'The Dancing Dove'. Shadows were lengthening, now, and she had only managed to search a small area of the city.

Chewing her lip in a small show of frustration, Alanna contemplated asking someone for aid.

"Can I 'elp ya', miss?"

"No, thank you."

"Oh, just that y'look lost, miss. No'fence." She looked down, seeing a small boy; no older than twelve, she thought, looking up at her with a wide smile. She smiled back at him as she realised that he probably did want to help her.

"None taken. Yes, I would say that I am lost." The boy's grin brightened, and she couldn't help but laugh. "What's your name?"

"Me names Olver, but ev'one calls me Olly, miss."

"Well, Olly. I think it's my lucky day." She handed the boy a copper piece, "I'm looking for a place called 'The Dancing Dove'. Do you know it?"

The boy's eyes widened when she handed him the copper, before he quickly thrust it into his breeches as if she'd reconsider. When he heard the name, his head jerked up and down almost comically, and he began to walk back the way she had come.

"Oh, yeah! Foll'me, miss. I'll take y'there."

"Olly, wait!" Alanna cried, trying to get Swift to live up to his name. It was understandably difficult to turn the horse around in such close surroundings, but Olly seemed to have gone off ahead. She cursed a little, oh the impetuousness of youth! Eventually Swift was trotting back up the street, Alanna scanning the crowd for any sign of Olly.

She eventually found him jumping up and down on the side of a fountain, trying to attract her attention. When she began to steer Swift towards him, he smiled again. 

"Sorry 'bout that, miss. Don't norm' 'ang round w'horses. Forgot."

"That's all right, Olly. I found you again, so no harm done." He nodded, "Now, which way to the Dancing Dove?"

"This way, miss. Follow me." He leapt off the fountain, almost disappearing into the crowd again. Alanna grimaced, but managed to pick out his scruffy head among the throng. It helped that he'd leap up every once in a while, shouting out "This way, miss!" She followed, and within twenty minutes or so, she was standing outside a fairly inauspicious place that she was sure she'd been past once or twice before. 

Sure enough, however, when Olly point it out to her, she noticed the faded words 'The Dancing Dove' above the doorway. She thanked him, expecting him to dart off again, but instead he grinned up at her.

"Oh no, miss." He told her, "I know t'owner's of this place pretty well. I'll see y'settled in, if you dun mind, miss." 

"No, not at all. Thanks, Olly." He grinned up at her again, "You've been a life saver." He blushed – perhaps that was why he didn't want to leave. She chuckled to herself. "Can you see where I can stable my horse?" he nodded, and dashed inside. She slid off Swift gracefully, settling the saddlebags in anticipation for Swift's stabling.

After a while, Olly dashed out into the street, towing a gangly youth behind him. The youth appeared to be in his teens, a few years younger than she, and didn't seem to appreciate Olly's treatment of him. 

"Olly, 'ay! Slow down, I'm comin', all right?"

"She's just out 'ere, Mak. 'Urry up!"

She smiled as Olly literally pulled the youth through the door, causing the younger boy to stumble and fall. He cursed, and rose to his feet again.

"You alright, Olly?" she asked. He nodded in the affirmative, before prodding the other boy with his elbow. 

"Ow!" the other boy had been staring at her too, she noted with a flash of amusement, "Oh, yeah. Olly say's you want to stay 'ere, right?"

"Course she does, Mak! Why else would she be 'ere?"

"Shu' up, Olly." Olly frowned at the older boy, and looked ready to pounce on him. 

"Yes!" Alanna hurriedly interjected, "Yes. I'd like to stay here, if you've got the room." The other boy – Mak – nodded. "Great. Where can I stable my horse?" she asked him.

"Ah, just round t'side, miss." He said, "Olly knows where. 'E'll show you. Ain't that right Olly?" Olly blushed again, before kicking the other boy in the shin and darting away before he could be hit in return. Alanna, shaking her head in amusement, followed the young boy around the side. 

***

She'd stabled Swift, removing the saddlebags and the tack, before plonking down a big bale of hay for the mare. Motioning for Olly to take some of the bits she'd left, she gave him another copper as he went by. The boy had earned it, to be sure, besides – she liked the little sprout. He'd been nothing but helpful, answering her questions about the place readily. She'd found out that this was indeed the Dancing Dove that Liam had mentioned, with his 'friend' George Cooper being a prominent figure around the place. She hadn't managed to actually work out what that role was, from what Olly had told her, but she decided it wasn't really important. Giving Swift a last pat, she hoisted the saddlebags over her shoulder, and headed into the inn proper, Olly at her heels.

Propping open the doors, she looked in at what could only be described as Chaos. Men and women everywhere, laughing, dancing and drinking. Men, mostly, she noted; most of whom would be what she knew a noble would class as 'undesirable'. 

She grinned. It was pretty much everything that she had enjoyed about the city so far, but on a much smaller scale.

"Can I 'elp you, miss?" she turned, noticing a large woman just following her through the stable door. "You, get." She added, pushing Olly out of her way. The boy almost fell over, but managed to brace himself on the wall. 

"Uhm, yes." Alanna replied, "I was looking for a room." The woman nodded, before giving Alanna a long look, sizing her up for something. "Uh, single room, plain as-"

"We only got plain one's 'ere, miss." The woman replied, tightly, eye's still boring away at Alanna. 

Alanna swallowed, why did she feel like she was being interrogated. "Oh. Good, I suppose." She offered the woman a smile. The woman didn't return it, her lips instead thinning.

"Would you," the woman asked after a moment, "by any chance, 'ave died your 'air?"

She frowned. What kind of question was that for an innkeeper to be asking? "Uh, as a matter of fact, yeah." The woman gave a small nod, expecting more. "Used to be red?" Alanna added. That seemed to be the answer the woman was looking for, and a smile bloomed across her face. 

"Sure, sweetie, I gots just the room for you. Follow me." Alanna stared after the woman, who had already crossed the main floor of the inn and was almost at the stairs on the far side of the room. How she did it so quickly for someone of her size was something Alanna couldn't understand, but she adjusted her saddlebags and followed as quickly as she could.

Reaching the room the woman was standing outside; she asked the innkeep if this was it. 

"Oh yes, dearie. You just put your things in 'ere, and come down when you're ready." And with that, the woman spun on her heel, thumping down the stairs back to the main room.

Blinking in surprise, Alanna walked into the room, appraising it. It was certainly modest, with only the bed looking to be of any real quality. But that was good enough for her, and she let the saddlebags slip off her shoulder onto the firm mattress. Olly poked his head in a moment later, dropping the tack he was holding in the corner.

"Thanks again, Olly." The boy smiled, before murmuring a goodbye and heading out the door again.

***

Alanna had rested in the room for an hour or so, before slipping down the stairs. The room seemed to be just as, if not _more_ crowded than it had before, and she found it difficult to slide between the throng of people to reach the woman she had talked to earlier.

"Excuse me?" she got no response, "Excuse me!?" she tried a little louder. The woman turned, spying her, and clapped her hands. 

"Ah, good. You've decided to 'tain us with your presence, miss…?"

"Alanna." The woman continued to look questioningly at her, "just Alanna."

"Oh then, miss Alanna. I swear, some o' the men saw you earlier and were askin' 'bout you." Alanna raised an eyebrow, and the woman laughed awkwardly, "Uh, but o' course, I dun even know your name, miss Alanna. So I weren't of much help, I weren't! Not me, not Nelly!"

Alanna smiled at her, "I'm glad, Nelly. I don't think I need any 'company' at the moment."

"You sure 'bout that, Miss Alanna?" the woman asked, conspiratorially. "Not even o' one George Cooper?"

Alanna froze. Add this to the question before about her hair, and it seemed that this woman knew much more than she was letting on. Her smile slid off her face, "How do you know that I was looking for him?" she asked, harshly.

The other woman, smiled at her. "No need t'worry, miss. Nothing nasty or nothing, I just got word t'keep an eye or two out for a copper 'aired, purple eyed girl, who'd be looking for George."

Alanna nodded, though she decided that she'd have to be a bit more careful in future. "Is he here?" 

"George? No, miss. Not tonight, but 'e'll be in tomorrow, don't you worry." Sighing, Alanna steered the conversation towards more important matters, namely the price she'd pay for the room. The woman was tough, she'd give her that, but Shang weren't only taught to be hard on the battlefield…

***

She lay naked under crisp white sheets, the soft bed beneath her the epitome of luxury. She stared upwards at a grey ceiling, noting the small pits and cracks in the stone, as well as the surreal spirals and patterns that the soot from the torches created. 

_"What are you looking at?" breathed a voice in her ear. His – of course, who else would it be – breath caused her to shiver as it passed her ear, and a hand reached up to play with the hair near her ear. She glanced to the side, His blue eye's focused utterly on copper strands playing through his fingers. She pointed to the ceiling. _

_"Look at the patterns," she said, "the whorls, the loops. It's very interesting." She felt His eyes on her face, now. "And now you think I'm strange."_

_"No, I think you're perfect."_

_She blushed at the remark. It was very sappy, and clichéd, but it felt so good to hear Him say it. She'd never felt that anyone, besides her brother, fully accepted her before, but this Fantasy man seemed to love all of her. She rolled onto her side, facing him._

_"If only you were real." She whispered. He frowned slightly, but she shook her head. "Never mind." Her hands entangled themselves in his hair, and she pulled him to her. She rolled on top of him, her breasts squashed flat against her chest, as she ravaged his mouth with her own. He trailed fingers down her back a-_

"Don't move, missy." 

She cracked an eye open, spotting someone hovering above her, a cold knife blade at her throat.

"Whoever you are," she calmly told him, "I am going to thoroughly kill you for what you just interrupted."

"Huh?"

Sigh. "Never mind." The pressure on the blade at her throat was increased.

"Look, just shu' up, ok? It's easier if you dun say anything." She heard him sigh. 

"What are you looking for?"

"Huh? What did I just say!" he whispered harshly. She rolled her eyes, not that he could see. "Bloody…! Where do you keep your money?"

She snorted softly. "Not in here. Why, thieves could get to it in _here_." The man cursed at her dryly sarcastic tone, and she made her move. Grabbing the mans' arm quickly, she twisted it viciously, making sure that he dropped the knife. Sliding off the bed, she tripped him up, before picking up the knife and holding it to his throat as he had done to her moments before.

"There. Much better." She said, satisfied. Glancing down at herself, making sure that her tunic hadn't ridden up; she held the knife a little closer. "Now, what were you doing in here?"

The man, whose eyes were as wide as she had seen on anyone, began stuttering. "N-nothing! H-honest, miss! Uh, just g-got lost, or somethin'." She frowned, "Ok! Ok! I was looking for y'coin, as I said!"

"Was that all?" She asked. The man nodded, carefully. She sighed, she should take him downstairs, but she'd need to get dressed first, which would be difficult. "Get up, but don't try anything. I can throw this faster than I disarmed you." She stepped away from him, allowing him to rise. He raised his hands a little into the air, the universal symbol of surrender. "Now turn around." He did so. 

She quickly launched herself at her bags, grabbing the first pair of breeches she could find. She caught his head turning at the edge of her vision; "Eyes at the wall!" she almost screeched, waving the knife at him. He turned his head back around to face the wall again, his neck popping with a click. She slid into the breeches as fast as she could, making sure that her eye's never left his back. Tying the laces was difficult, and with the knife held between her bared teeth, he'd probably have been too shocked to look down if he had turned around.

Once she had dressed, she slipped on her leather shoes that she had worn at the Shang village, and marched the man downstairs. She got a proper look at him in the light, and was surprised to see that he was about her age. Brown spiky hair framing a gaunt face, with almost girlish wide hazel eyes. If he wasn't so thin, she thought he might have been quite handsome. Still, he did try to rob her, not to mention what he'd interrupted. She blushed as she remembered the dream; oh how she enjoyed them.

"Sit." She told him, pointing to a chair around one of the tables downstairs. He sat as she ordered, and looked down, cradling his injured arm. "Why did you try and steal from me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I dunno. You looked well off, I guess." 

"Riven! By the Goddess! Where have you been!?" the rotund innkeep, Nelly, trotted into the room. She was wearing a sleeping gown, which she was tying up in a very angry fashion. "We've been worried sick!"

"I been around, Ma." The man said, sickly. "You just ain't seen me, tha'sall." 

Nelly opened her mouth to yell at her son some more, and suddenly seemed to notice Alanna standing in the corner. "Oh! What's miss Alanna doing down here, at this time o' night?"

"You're boy, I'm afraid." She said, waving the knife at him. "I got a wake up call that I wasn't expecting."

The rotund woman rounded on her son. "Stealing from _my_ patrons, Riven?! Again! Oh, you are going t'get it this time, my boy!" she marched over to him, undoubtedly to curse at him some more, but just then a knock came from the front door. Nelly looked at the door, then back to her son quickly. Quickly whispering "Don't you even think o' going anywhere, boy!" she trotted to the door, peering through the small peep-hole. With a grunt, she opened the door, and in came a single figure.

"'Ello there, Nelly!" the man said, almost jovially. "'Ow's my favourite innkeep, then?" he pulled down his cloak, and Alanna was able to get a good look at him. Tall, lithe, and with a face like iron plates, this man was one she could imagine as a thief. He looked as quick as lightening, this one. She supposed that he knew how to use the sword at his waist, as well as the countless knives that he'd surely have on his person.

"Oh, very nice Cooper. I'm afraid you've probably picked the wors' time o' night to come in." Cooper? So this was George Cooper? "I just found out that Riven's been stealin' from t'patrons again."

The man chuckled. "Ah, but 'es a smart one, your lad. Always chooses the slow witted and hefty ones, don't 'e?"

"I wouldn't exactly consider myself slow witted and hefty, Mr. Cooper, but perhaps that's just my view." His eyes widened as he realised that she was present, firstly, then widened again as he took a look at her, and realised what she was saying. "In future, I'd suggest making the difference between them a bit clearer to young Riven, here." The man gulped.

"Ah, so you're the lass Riven chose, eh?" he added, a sparkle in his eye. "'Ow do you know that it was 'im, then?" He had yet to notice that Riven was at the table next to Alanna, though it may be because Riven was leaning face down on the table, nursing his arm. He lifted his head off the wood at that, however.

"Because she attacked me halfway through." The youth lamented, "She bloody broke me arm, George!"

"And that's the least o' your worries, Mister!" Nelly screeched. "Honestly! Stealing from miss Alanna 'ere! On 'er first night in Corus, too! Why I should set Me Lord Provost on you, me son!"

"Miss Alanna?" George said quietly, before he frowned. "You've got the eye's, but what about the 'air?"

"Dyed." She said, simply. "And I suppose you're George Cooper? The friend of Liam's?"

"Aye, that'd be me." She nodded. "And so you're his, what? Apprentice."

"Initiate," she clarified. "Well, I was."

"Aye?" he sounded impressed, "So you're a Shang now too?"

"She's a _Shang_?!" Riven screeched. Adding, "Oh Mithros!" under his breath before he passed out on the table.


	5. George

George had pulled her into another room while Nelly attempted to get her son to wake up, practically dragging her by the elbow. He plonked himself down onto a chair, before taking a long, hard look at her.

"So," he began after a while, realizing that she wouldn't begin the conversation. "Why, exactly, 'ave you come to Corus, Alanna o' Shang?"

She blinked, she hadn't expected him to be so blunt. "Well, uhh, Mr. Cooper-"

"George."

"George. It's quite simple really." She licked her lips, "When someone I knew-" Alanna expected George already knew who she was talking about, but she still disliked people consider her as a noble. She'd decided to place a bit of distance between herself and Thom. "-passed away a few months ago, Liam received word from you about the…circumstances of it." He nodded, "Well, I've come to get a better understanding of what actually happened."

"Why?" George asked her, simply. "Lord Thom died more'n two months ago, now."

"That's beside the point."

George snorted.

"George, please." She softly pleaded, "I just want to find out what happened to him. The note Liam received held mention of things that I didn't understand, and I hoped that at least you could help me with those."

"Aye." He looked at her levelly, "And then what? When you fin' out what happened, if you do. What then?"

"It depends," she replied, "If I can find out a name behind his death, then I'll deal with them." Sighing, she added, "If I find out nothing, then I find out nothing. At least I would have tried." George nodded, "Look, I'm going to be looking around for information anyway, I'd appreciate your help."

George gave her a smile, "Aye lass, I'll 'elp you."

Alanna's smile reached from ear to ear. Perhaps now she'd get some answers.

***

Or, she thought snidely, perhaps there would be a lot of sitting around doing nothing. She leaned back on the chair she was sitting on, covering a yawn with her hand. She hadn't been sleeping very well recently, since most of George's 'sources' seemed to meet with him at night. She wasn't dumb, she'd worked out what George was fairly soon after the first meeting he took her to.

"So you're a thief." She said to him.

He looked at her for a moment, before smiling "Not exactly, lass."

"Then what?"

"I like to think of my job as bein', you could say, more involved in t'administrative side of thieving."

"So you're a thief with delusions of grandeur?"

George had roared with laughter, clapping her on the back. She had found herself smiling too, which was odd. George was the kind of man that aggravated her, normally. Too cocky and confident in himself, although he balanced this off with a scathing sense of humour. She enjoyed spending time with him, though a lot of this time was just sitting around. 

The first morning after he had agreed to help her, she had made her way out the back of the inn, finding a clear space to train on. There wasn't a training ring here, and she wasn't expecting to have to exert herself too much while she was here, but she still had to keep in good fitness. So she had begun her exercises, going through the forms as she had done so many times previously. As she finished, the last _kata_ with the sword completed, she noticed a small child darting away from the area. She hadn't given it a second thought at that time, but the next morning there were three children standing about. The next, ten. And it continued to grow; by the end of her first week in Corus, there were even a few adults peering out of window's to watch her.

George had approached her after that session, giving her a soft smile. "You're pretty good, lass. As good as I remember Liam being, even." She returned the smile, thanking him for the compliment.

"Although I'm not as good as Liam. He's pegged as the next Dragon, when the current one falls." George raised a questioning brow. "There can only ever be one Dragon at a time, one of any of the True Shang Masters at one time, even. The current Dragon is something like 55 years old, though, and while he can still fight, he only performs in rituals and the like now." She put a finger to her lips, "Though as I was leaving I remember whispers that he'd be heading off to Scrana for a while. To fight, I mean. I remember some of the other Shang wondering whether he was slightly touched in the head." She added with a grin. 

"So Liam has to wait till this old Dragon dies before 'e can be granted the title?"

"Well, yes. Technically the Dragon, or any of the Masters, can relinquish their rank and no-longer be considered Shang-" she let that sink in, for a Shang Master, there was little worse "-but that is rarely done. Liam's just got to be patient." 

"Aye, lass." George said, eye's twinkling, "And 'e must have been that, to put up with you for seven years." 

She affected a look of outrage, hands on her hips. "Mr. Cooper! You take that back!"

"Or what, lass?" he was taunting her, hands crossed over his chest like that, she knew it. But _she_ knew just the thing to take him down a peg. He always claimed to be quick with his hands, but she had watched him wield his knives. She knew she was quicker.

"Or else…this!" her hands flashed like lightning, reaching out for the two sheaths he wore on his belt. He dropped his hands to fend her off, but he was too slow. She'd already unsheathed the daggers, and made two slicing cuts with them. With a giggle, she realised she'd done her work to perfection.

George Cooper, the Rogue, King of Thieves, blushed like the sun as his breeches fell about his ankles. 

Alanna stood there laughing her head off as George waddled back inside the Dancing Dove, trying in vain to salvage some shred of his dignity.

***

It had been two weeks, now, since Alanna had arrived in Corus. Unfortunately for her, George's contacts had turned up little information on Thom's death. She knew that he wanted to ask her just what the boy meant to her, but he thankfully restrained himself. She had cornered him a few days ago, to ask what the writer of the message to Liam – which she discovered had been George himself; meant when they wrote 'No suspicion of foul play, despite previous rumours'.

George had warily revealed to her that Thom had been fairly well known by the various nobles in Corus soon after he had arrived. Alanna asked him about that; she still didn't quite understand why he had come to Corus in the first place, but George admitted that he didn't know.

"All I know," he had told her, "Is that when Young Thom-" she had noticed the change from 'Lord Thom' to 'Young Thom'. Did George know Thom? She would have to find out "-arrived, there was much talk in t'noble circles about his prowess at sorcery. All t'Ladies wanted their futures told, and all t'men wanted their swords enchanted, or other such nonsense. But there was also talk about his 'talents' in other areas. I dun know what they meant by that, not really, but I'd wager two coppers that it had to do with what led to 'is death."

"Why do you say that?" she had asked.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Call it intuition, lass. Call it luck. I dun'no, but it's served me well over the years, and I trust it. You should too, Alanna. Find what Thom's 'talents' were supposed to be, and you'll find out why 'e died, that's my guess."

She nodded to herself slowly. Whatever else George may have been, she'd found him to always tell her the truth, and she trusted him in this. But what could Thom have been up to? What could have possibly led him to Corus? To his death? 

She asked George, who again shrugged. "Damned if I know, lass." He scrunched his nose up, "I'd guess some o' them nobles do, though."

"Do you know any? Any that might know about him?

"Aye," he said slowly. "I may just do at that."

***

"I'm bored." Riven said. His mother hit him on the back of the head as she went past, telling him to mind his manners. Alanna grinned at the boy – despite attempting to rob her on her first night here, the two had managed to grow somewhat close, as his mother had forbid him to leave the inn for two weeks and she was often confined to the inn awaiting news from George. "Can't you teach me some Shang, Alanna?"

She snorted. "We've had this conversation a hundred times, Riven. I'm not going to teach you something that will lad to you ending up in a situation you can't control." He glared at her, as he always did. "Honestly, you tried to rob me, Riven. That's pretty cocky in itself. Imagine what you'd be like with more even more confidence than wits?"

"Hey!" he pouted, "In my defence, you're very small." She rolled her eyes at him, "Well you are!"

"She's not small!" Olly shouted from his seat, "She's a perfect size!" Alanna blushed. Olly's infatuation was getting embarrassing. 

"Thank you Olly." She said, "Perhaps Swift would like another apple?" Olly seemed to like her horse even more than he did her, which she found both insulting and useful at the same time. The boy bounced off the chair, heading into the stables.

Riven watched Olly go, "Please?" he asked her again, "Just some hand to hand stuff. So I can twist people's wrists like you did mine. Or their necks! Yeah!"

Alanna paled. She remembered that man's face, the one she had killed with her own two hands. Not even a sword in the way, just her own muscles whisking the man's life away. She looked away from Riven, looking out the window. She still saw his face a lot, though it was getting better. The disbelief on his face, the red blood on her hands. The sense of power she had gotten from the kill.

"Alanna?" Riven's voice broke through her thoughts, and she dragged her eyes back to him. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah." She tried to smile at him, but failed. "Just, excuse me, please." She rose from the table, picking her way back to the stairs and her room. She needed to think for a moment, alone. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Olly opening the door to the stable. She noticed a large black horse that looked vaguely familiar stabled next to Swift, but dismissed it out of hand. Climbing the stairs to her room, she missed George walking in; his friend 'Johnny' in tow.

***

She lay on the bed, Thom's pendant in her fingers. She twisted the chain over and over again, as she had done so often in the past, staring at the three silver claws and the amethyst they held. It helped her to concentrate, holding this. Which, she thought to herself, was probably appropriate, knowing Thom.

Though she wished she knew Thom now. It was bad enough having her brother, one of the few shining lights in her life, dying so young. But to have no idea of why, or even how he died just made it so much worse. If only George could help her find out what he had been 'talented' in before he had come to Corus. She'd considered heading to the City of the Gods to find some information about that, but was a bit worried that she'd be drawn into visiting Trebond on the way back.

Trebond. She wanted to know what was happening there, now more than ever. But it was a difficult situation; if she asked George to get some information on it, she would betray her noble birth, which she did not wish to do. She didn't know why she should care so much, but it seemed to her that George would think less of her if she was a noble. Liam hadn't, she reminded herself, but she had known Liam for seven years. She'd known George a little over fourteen days.

Why should she care what he thinks, though? She liked George, certainly. But she didn't have any feelings for him, did she? He flirted with her shamelessly, and it was nice to have the attention, but did she feel anything for him? 

She wasn't really sure. Not that love is ever easy, she told herself. Despite her lack of experience, she had certainly learnt _that_. She knew one thing for certain, and it was that George's presence hadn't stopped those dreams. She blushed, they'd certainly been getting a lot racier as of late. From the moment Riven woke her from her sleep two weeks ago, the dreams seemed to replay similar scenes over and over again. The Fantasy man and her naked in bed, declaring their love for one another, and then consummating this love. She was confused by them, as she had always been, but she'd begun to enjoy lying down at night. She always woke up with a smile on her face the morning after.

If only the man was _real_, she told herself. Dreams are all well and good, but what about the real thing?

"Alanna?" George's muffled voice sounded from the other side of her door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He cracked open the door, peered about instinctively, then strolled into the room. He gave her a smile, which she returned. _Could_ she feel something for George?

"I missed you downstairs, lass." He began, "I brought one o' me, as you call 'em, 'noble friends' to see you."

Her smile dropped, "Oh no! I'm sorry, George, I didn't know! Is he still here?" she pulled herself up on the bed, but he shook his head. 

"Never mind, lass. 'E's gone, now. Anyway, Riven told me that y'looked pale." He frowned at her, "You're not comin' down wit' anything, are you?"

"Why George, I didn't know you cared."

He blushed slightly, but merely said "Oh, no. I just want to see if I'd now have a reason to stay away from you." He chuckled softly, at least until she punched him in the gut. "'Ey!"

"That wasn't very nice, George."

"Nay, I s'pose it wasn't." He sighed, "Do you want to know what Johnny said or not?"

"Johnny's your noble friend?"

"Aye," he nodded, "He knew Thom when 'e first arrived 'ere. Said that the two of them talked a fair bit." He paused.

"About?" Alanna noted, impatiently.

George sighed, "About ways to cure illness. Seem's Johnny was a bit o' a sorcerer 'imself, and 'ad a sick family member, who 'e wanted to cure. Johnny said Thom gave 'im some good advice, which seemed to do the trick. Cured 'is loved one so they were as good as they was beforehand."

Alanna frowned. So Thom was helping cure people from sickness? What did this have to do with his death? "Anything else?"

"Not really. Johnny said that Thom was a bit," he paused, "Strange. Always worried about what 'e said, like 'e was always afraid, or something. Might be important."

She nodded slowly, mulling over things in her mind already. "Thanks, George. I owe you so much already." She trailed off, waiting to see if he got the hint.

"And now you want me t'do something else, aye?" she nodded. "Come on, spit it out."

Alanna chewed her lip. She knew that this would be hard for her to say, but she needed to tell George. She wanted to get some information on Trebond, and there was no way she could tell to do so without revealing her heritage.

"I haven't been entirely…straight with you, George Cooper…"


	6. Arune and Eleni

"Well, you see," she muttered, "I'm actually, uh."

"Alanna," he said softly, she looked up at him. His sparkling hazel eye's gazed back into her amethyst orbs. "Just spit it out, lass."

She gave him a tired smile, before nodding slightly. "I was born a noble." 

George's eyes widened, before he stiffened up. His mouth opened, then closed, and he shot a glance to the door. "Aye? That right, lass." He muttered weakly after the silence had stretched almost painfully. He shook his head, muttering under his breath. "Noble?"

She nodded. She wouldn't say anything, she'd let him ask the questions here. He'd earned that, at least. He cleared his throat. "That's-" he swallowed, "W-where, 'zactly?" he took a step or two back, leaning up against the wall now. He crossed his arms.

Her heart sank, he wasn't taking this very well, it appeared. "Trebond." Stating the truth simply, let him put the pieces together. He was smart; he didn't need too long. 

He pushed off the wall. "Trebond?" he spat in disbelief, eyes wide, "So you-!" he shook his head. "What kind o' game are you playing at? You been getting me t'ask questions bout Thom when you already know!?" he was almost shouting now.

"No! I just-"

"You just lied t'me, aye. That's right, that's all."

"George, I didn't know anything about Thom."

"Aye? That right?" he said, sarcastically, "O' course, you wouldn't know anything 'bout your bloody brother, now, would you." She shook her head in denial, and his face screwed up as he pointed a finger at her "Don't lie t'me again, lass. I dun like liars, not a scrap."

"I'm not!" she cried, "George, please believe me!"

"Why should I?" he hissed, before moderating his tone. "Why should I, lass? Just give me a reason, a _single one_."

She looked away from him. "I-I…" shutting her eyes, she dropped her head. "I can't, George."

He muttered an oath. "What else 'ave you been lying to me about, then?" her mouth dropped open, and George sighed. "Aye, I'm sorry. That wasn't fair." Shaking his head, he went on "I just- I just need some time t'deal with this, alright lass? I think I should get out o' the Dove for a while."

"Maybe I should go instead," Alanna said. "You've still got things to do here, don't you?" he nodded slightly. She gave him a sad look. "I'm sorry George. I truly am."

"Aye lass, I know."

"I'm going to be back later tonight. Will I see you here?" he nodded, "Good." She slipped on her leather shoes, before heading out the door. Downstairs, she noted that Riven and Olly were both sitting at the table where she'd been before. When they saw her, their faces brightened.

"Ah! Alanna!" Riven said, "I knew you wouldn't be long, aye. Olly here thought you were sick."

"What?!" the boy in question paled, glaring at Riven. "Oi! That was you!"

"Be quiet, Olly." Riven clapped a hand over the younger boys mouth, "No one likes a liar."

_Don't lie to me again, lass. I don't like liars._

"What have I done?" she mumbled to herself. Riven shot her a confused look, though she didn't think he heard her. 

"You alright, 'lanna?" he asked. She shook her head, raven hair flying into her eyes, welling up moisture. Choking back a sob, she told him that she was going out for a while. "Oh, alright. You taking Swift?" 

"No. I'm just-" George walked down the stairs, his eyes finding hers. The sparkle in them was gone, she noticed "I'm just going for a walk. Back later." She didn't take her eyes off him. Riven frowned, noticing the look between them, and opened his mouth to speak.

George cut him off. "Shut up, Riven. Let 'er get gone." His voice was sad, and she felt that same knot of emotion rising in her throat. He nodded at her, and she turned and strode out of the room as fast as she could.

***

She was wandering the streets aimlessly, as she had for the past hour or so. She just couldn't find anything to take her mind off what had happened earlier. She'd fought the urge to cry successfully, but it seemed that the melancholy she found herself in was just as bad. She was just so _tired_ of being hurt because of what she was. Why couldn't anyone just accept her?

But why had she told him, she wondered to herself? He didn't need to know; she could have found someone else to get word to her from Trebond. Another _thief._

That was harsh, and she knew it. Sighing, she berated herself. She was trying to paint him as the villain here, when she knew full well that she was in the wrong. She was just going to have to accept it, and hope that they could move on. Wherever that may lead. She trailed off at the last thought, remembering the questions she had asked herself earlier. Did she have any feelings for George Cooper? He'd proved today that he could get under skin, to pierce the heart that she had fought so hard to harden. But did that _mean_ anything? 

She wasn't sure. When did life get so complicated? She had thought Corus would be a nice way to broaden her horizons when she left the Shang, thought that she could remain isolated from the people of it, yet still experience life in the way most people seemed to live theirs. But she had failed, she had opened her heart to someone, to some _people_ – Riven, Olly and Nelly, as well as George. She had failed in what she had set out to do. She wasn't even any closer to finding out what happened to Thom.

Was she that disappointed in herself, though? Not as such. She had opened her heart, and it had been injured today with George's reaction, but the previous two weeks had been…fun. Something she hadn't experienced much of.

She just hoped George would forgive her. And, well, they work things out from there. Maybe she did like him, just a little. He _was _attractive, after all. He wasn't her Fantasy man, no, but she was beginning to realise that he was just that – a Fantasy. What would be the harm in falling for George? None, she told herself.

Blushing, she realised how presumptuous she sounded. Perhaps George didn't even like her, especially after what happened today. Perhaps they couldn't work together, a thief and a noble Shang. She sighed, her life was never easy. She just needed…well, she wasn't sure of that.

She saw a crowd gathering around a square to her right. She needed something to take her mind off of things, that's what she needed, and decided to head for the crowd. She elbowed her way in a little, before two noblewomen blocked her way. They were very tall, and their bulky skirts meant getting past them would be difficult, especially for one of her height.

"Excuse me." She exclaimed, hoping they'd notice her. They didn't appear to, continuing in whatever inane topic of conversation they were currently dithering over.

"Oh, he's very handsome, yes." One said, fluttering a pink silk fan at herself.

"I hear, " the other added, "That Lady Elena is wanting to make him hers." Laughing softly. She must have made a joke, though Alanna couldn't see how it was in any way funny.

"Oh, really?" the other giggled, "She'd be lucky to wed a pig!" Alanna rolled her eyes. So, the _worst_ kind of noble Lady, then. The gossiping, bitchy kind. What fun. At least she wouldn't have any qualms about elbowing them out of the way if they didn't move.

"Excuse me!" she tried again. The one with the fan turned, looked at her, and turned back to her friend.

"I must say though, this man seems to be accomplished." She just continued with her conversation! Ignoring her completely! Alanna's mouth dropped open; though she did wonder exactly who 'this man' they were talking about was.

"Hmm? Oh yes," the other replied, "Moves like the wind. Sir Raoul told me th-"

"Oh, you know Sir Raoul?" the fanning one said, making Alanna grind her teeth. She could have learnt something useful there! "I had thought you were more interested in the Lord of Tirragen, dear Yves?"

'Yves' blushed. "Lord Alex is handsome, true." She smirked, "But Sir Raoul is s-so _perfect!_ He's charming, and witty, and handsome!" She trailed off, and the fanning one laughed.

"Seems you're quite taken with him, then."

"Oh, yes. Well," 'Yves' reddened, "Maybe so. Not like Delia wit-"

"Excuse me!" Alanna all but yelled. The one with the pink fan turned to her, a look of disgust on her features.

"What do you want, commoner?" she all but spat.

Alanna held up two fingers. "Two things. One, who is this man you are talking about, this 'accomplished' one."

'Yves' sighed, "The man in the square. The one training some of the boys." She turned back to her friend, "Now, as I said before, Alex may-"

"Two," Alanna's voice cut the woman off harshly, "Get out of my way." The fan stopped waving, the wrist holding it probably too shocked to move at the moment, its' owner emitted a slight squawk of outrage. 

"Well I never-!"

"Oh, do just let the common brat through," 'Yves' said, pulling her friend to the side. Alanna made a mock bow to them, before pushing her way past them. She emerged near the front of the crowd, finally able to see just what was going on. When her eyes took in one of the individuals in the square, a smile crept over her face.

There were ten to twenty boys standing in two lines in the middle of the square. To the side, there was a small area where two men were sparring with one another. The boys were attempting to emulate the men in their punches and kicks, to mixed degrees of success. What had made her smile was who one of the men were. He was Shang, obviously, and was soundly defeating his opponent. He was one she had always enjoyed sparring against, this Shang. He was known as Arune, and was technically entitled the Shang Wolf. He had a nickname among the Initiates, though, being known as the Horse. It was a strange title, but it related to his jovial nature, and that he was always 'horsing' around. He was simply fun to be around.

He seemed to be enjoying himself at the moment, too. He was playing with his opponent, baiting him to kick in a certain way, or to punch in a certain angle, and would then astound the crowd by turning the attack back on his attacker, or dodging nimbly to the side and tripping the man up. From the row of men leaning against a wall behind the two sparing men, it appeared that Arune had defeated a few men before this as well. Of course, that wouldn't stop other men trying – who wouldn't try and prove himself against a Shang?

It was one of the reasons she didn't like revealing just who she was, as with her gender, and her size, she'd have had numerous challenges from half drunk individuals, or even sober ones!

But Arune seemed to be enjoying himself, as she knew he would. He wasn't injuring the men too badly, more lasting damage to their pride then anything. She laughed along with the crowd as Arune kicked the man in the rump as he had charged past, sending the man sprawling to the ground.

"Another round?" Arune laughed. The man simply groaned, and shook his head. 

Was this perhaps what Alanna could use to clear her head? She hadn't tested her skills properly in weeks, and extending herself in such a fashion would be a perfect way to get her attention focused off of George and her search for answers.

Arune was strolling around the square, pointing out tips to the young boys as they attempted to properly mimic the kicks they had seen. "No, no! Keep your arms at your sides! Kick from the hip, not from the knee!" all very basic, but Alanna knew that it was mastery of the basics that led to mastery of Shang. Arune shook his smiling head at some of the boys as they fell over attempting a high kick.

"Another challenger!" someone from the crowd shouted, "Let's see another challenger!" the chant was taken up by more people, and Arune grinned.

"I'll take on anyone who presents themselves," he laughing said. "One of the Ladies, perhaps?" the Ladies giggled politely, before engrossing themselves in gossip once more.

Alanna grinned, and stepped into the square. "I'll challenge you." She said, expecting a response. She got one; the entire crowd erupted in laughter, seeing this tiny girl stepping forward to meet the challenge of a Shang.

Arune recognized her, however, and his grin took on a friendly edge. "Challenge accepted." He stated. Some of the crowd stopped laughing, probably wondering why he'd sink to such a low. They probably considered her a child, or drunk, or both.

But Arune stepped up to her, clasping her on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Falcon." He stated, formally. She returned the gesture, invoking his title as well. Some of the crowd heard, and it quickly spread that this 'girl child' was more than she appeared. He motioned to the crowd, "Do you mind…?" she shook her head, and he raised his voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen, you are in luck! The Shang Falcon has decided to surface!" the crowd began to murmur excitedly.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked softly, as he allowed her to warm up.

He shrugged. "I had heard that there was a Shang present here already. Rumours, mostly. But I didn't know who, and I hadn't heard any titles." She nodded. "Ah, but it's good to see you again."

"You too, Horse." 

He chuckled at her. "This may well be a testing that I had not prepared for," he told her. "I had warmed up with these louts," motioning to the men against the wall, "Only to come face to face with the former Initiate of the Dragon himself!"

She frowned, "You mean?"

He nodded. "Ironarm has ascended. The previous Dragon passed away all a fortnight after you left, may the Dark God watch over him."

"That's marvelous!" she said, before realizing how that sounded. "What I mean, uh…" 

Arune laughed. "I know what you mean, Alanna. It is indeed." Seeing her finishing with her exercises, he asked her if she was ready. 

Nodding, she took up a ready stance in the middle of the square. Arune faced opposite her, their left wrists touching in the formal beginning to a fight. They exhaled, counted to three, and began to dance. 

There was really no other way of explaining it, they moved faster almost than the eye could follow, in patterns that looked so choreographed and graceful that it could have been a performance, rather than combat. The glimpses of the crowd they caught were almost always the same, men or women with their eyes and mouths wide open in astonishment.

But they did not see much of what occurred around them, they were focused on each other. Only the other existed, and would do so until one of them lay on the ground, yielding the bout. 

Alanna had sparred with Arune before, many times, and knew how he fought. He, of course, knew this, and was attempting to confuse her a little. Where he would have normally used his right arm, he used his right leg, or the left arm. Where he normally kept his head well back from the fight, he now launched it towards her own every now and again in futile attempts at butting her into submission. But she managed to stave him off, her speed allowing her to keep away from anything that she wasn't expecting.

In return, she was able to launch in some effective attacks of her own, right arm darting to glide across his left cheek, left leg catching the back of his knee, causing him to fall into her elbow. They danced, and Alanna was leading, it appeared. Arune was forced onto the defensive, working with all his skill to keep her limbs away from him, not managing to create many opportunities himself. Her leg slashed out at his side, catching him in the torso. He brought his elbow down on top of the leg, crushing it against him, but she was expecting this. She jumped off the other foot, throwing her arms onto the ground to support her, and twisted at the waist. Her free foot thudded into the side of his temple, throwing him to the side momentarily, and the other was jerked out of his grasp. 

She rolled onto the ground, quickly rising to her feet in time to stave off an overhead chop with her right forearm. The other hand, held flat so as not to cause any lasting damage, flashed out, striking him in the nose, causing him to stumble backwards slightly. She too skipped back, shooting a quick glance to her left as she readied herself to dodge the high kick she knew was coming.

With a frown, she caught a pair of sapphire blue eyes in the crowd, in a face topped with coal-black hair. She froze, recognising her Fantasy man. She opened her mouth in astonishment, almost calling out to him.

A foot slammed into the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. Her head struck the compacted ground hard, reverberations spreading through her body. She heard a roaring sound in her ears, and everything swam in front of her eyes. Feet thudded just in front of her face, all around, muddy feet. She blinked, and it seemed to take an incredible effort to pry her eyelids back open again afterwards. She tasted the tang of blood in her mouth, and felt it drip along the side of her lip onto the ground. The roaring sound increased, and an almighty pressure built up in her head.

"-anna!"

The pressure continued to build, but she fought against it.

"Alanna!"

Suddenly, she snapped back to awareness, the roaring disappearing as she did so. Her vision cleared, and she realised that Arune was shaking her shoulders in desperation. "Alanna!" he cried. She just looked at him, her eyes still not adjusting properly.

"Arune?" she said, weakly. "What happened." 

"Oh thank Mithros!" With a relieved sigh, he smiled. "What happened? You froze up! You were beating me, and I sent a last kick to your temple, and you just stood there!"

She frowned. "I thought I saw-" she cut herself off. It wouldn't do to tell a former teacher that she was seeing strange Fantasy men during the middle of combat. "Nothing. I don't know what happened."

Arune helped her to her feet. "Are you sure you're ok?" she nodded, groaning slightly as a splitting pain spread through her temple. She pushed him away from her, and stood alone on wobbly legs. "Alanna-"

"I'm fine, Arune. Please." 

He nodded, skeptically, then smiled. "At least allow me to help you back to wherever you're staying." She nodded, a little slower this time. "Right then." She pointed the direction that they'd have to go, and he helped her toddle off through the crowd. The people parted to allow the two of them through, some of them clapping as they left. The young boys in the square seemed to be rather put out that their teacher was leaving, but they didn't put up much of a fuss.

"The Dancing Dove," she mumbled to him. She was finding it difficult to concentrate. "That's where I'm staying." Arune nodded, he knew it.

***

"Here!" she whispered to him, she'd been leaning heavily against him most of the way. At least, the last part of it, anyway. "Just here." They were outside the Dancing Dove now, that same 'normal' front that had caused her to miss it on her first day, till Olly had pointed it out to her.

Arune nodded, and cracked the door open, supporting her as she went in. 

"Mithros! Alanna!" she heard the person say it, but she couldn't work out who it was, her vision was still a bit blurry. She thought how she must look; deathly pale and with bloodied lips and chin. She was beginning to tremble, which she knew was a bad sign. But she'd had an injury like this before, a sharp knock to her head, and she had gotten over that one with just rest. "What 'appened to 'er!?" It was Riven, and he was directing the question to Arune.

"I'm fine, Riven." She said weakly. Both Arune and Riven snorted. "Arune here's an old friend."

Riven gave her a skeptical look, before leaning over to Olly. "Go get George." Olly nodded, and dashed out.

"No, Olly!" she was too late, she groaned. "What did you do that for?" she asked Riven. He merely shook his head. Arune helped her sit at the table across from Riven. She let out a weary sigh, and took in great gulps of air.

"I'll go get you a drink." Arune said, pushing away from her. She thanked him as he left, and glared across the table at Riven.

"What?" he asked. 

"Never mind," she sighed, sinking her head to rest on the table.

"What 'appened?" Riven asked her, a nervous smile dancing on his lips. "Err, m'Lady."

She brought her head up quickly to stare at him, and then hissed as another wave of nausea overcame her. "George told you, huh?" she asked him through clenched teeth.

He nodded, a wide smile on his lips. "I think it's neat." She frowned, that wasn't the reaction she was expecting. She asked him what he meant. "Well, it's like a story, ain't it? The Noble Lady o' Shang." He laughed as she groaned.

"Just," she licked her lips, this pounding in her head was beginning to worsen. "Just don't tell anyone."

"Oh, dun you worry 'bout me and Olly, 'lanna." He said, "Won't tell a soul! Honest!"

She lowered her head to the table again, taking deep gulping breaths. The roaring was coming back in her head, now. She could hardly hear what Riven was saying, and at this rate it wouldn't be long before she couldn't hear anything. 

"'lanna?" Riven queried softly, "You alright?"

"Where is she?" she head George's voice off to the side, Olly was probably trotting beside him. "Olly!?"

"Over 'ere, George!" Riven shouted. She winced, why did he have to shout so _loudly_? "She dun look too good!"

The last thing she remembered was George's hands wiping some of the hair away from her forehead, his worried voice shouting "Go get Elani!" before she blacked out.

***

She was lying in a small cot, slicked with sweat. Though she didn't think this was the good kind of sweat, not the normal type which accompanied these dreams. Her head swam, and she realised she was probably ill. 

_A cough tore itself out of her lungs as if to prove her thoughts right. A hand shifted a washcloth on her head, before stroking her hair as it left her forehead. _

_"Come on, Alanna," His voice said tremulously, "you can't die on me! Not you! You're too strong for this!"_

_She peered up, seeing the fabric of a tent above her. She lay there for a while, too weak to actually turn over or do anything else for the moment, examining the fabric above her, the knots, the picked threads. Eventually, she found enough strength within her. She turned to the side slightly, seeing the top of His head as it looked down at the floor. She reached a hand out, astonished by how weak she felt, tangling her fingers in his hair. His head raised up, and she noticed that his eyes were red from crying. He was crying? For her?_

_"Hi." He said softly, "how are you feeling today?"_

_She opened her mouth, and no sound came out of her raw throat. He looked around, grabbing a waterskin for her. Pouring some water into a cup, he offered it to her. She accepted it gratefully, drinking slowly from it. The water soothed her throat, and she was able to talk._

_"I-I'm a little better, I think." She said slowly._

_He grinned, "That's my girl." She felt that she should blush at that, but she didn't have the energy to do so. _

_"I should have known that a blow to the head would be worse than what it first felt like." She reprimanded herself. _

_The man frowned, "You weren't hit on the head, Alanna."_

_She nodded as best she could, before tangling her fingers with His. "Just stay with me, please."_

He nodded, and lay his head down next to hers. A small smile spread across her face, which was to remain as they lay together for what seemed like hours. Eventually, the tent flap opened in front of her, and bright light spread over the cot…

She cracked an eye open, realizing that – as she had expected – she was not in a cot, or in a tent. She lay under heavy white sheets, looking up at a dark mahogany frame. The bed was _huge_, and she was squashed up on one side of it. 

She heard a noise to her right, and shifted her head. With a small smile, she realised George was sitting in a chair beside her. His head was propped up by one of his arms, and he was fast asleep. She noticed that there also appeared to be a huge bruise under his left eye, one which hadn't been there before. As she stared, he began to stir, before his eyes opened. Seeing her, a wide smile spread across his face.

"Lass," he whispered in relief, "You're awake."

"Looks like," she whispered back, although that was more out of necessity than anything else. "What happened?" when he frowned, she added "To your face?"

"Oh," he blushed. "I, uh, tripped." She looked at him skeptically, "Well, ok. I tripped onto Arune's fist."

"He hit you?" she said, with all the heat she could muster. Which wasn't very much.

"Well, t'be fair, I 'it 'im first."

She scowled at him. "Why'd you do that?"

George shrugged awkwardly. "I dun'no. Just got mad after 'e said that 'e caused this." He waved at her in the bed, before he turned away from her.

"It was my fault, George." She said. "Arune wasn't to blame."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, "But I was just real angry." She nodded. They sat for a while in silence, George was peering at her intently. She noticed that the light outside was very bright, too bright for what should have been late afternoon. It must be the next morning. "Lass?" he said in a small voice, breaking the silence, "Can I jus- ah…I'm sorry, alright. For what I said yesterday. I dun meant what I said, not really."

"You did, George, you meant it." She replied, taking his hand in hers, "And you were right. You shouldn't be apologizing." He shrugged. "_I'm_ sorry. For what I _didn't_ tell you."

He grinned, giving her hand a squeeze. "Apology accepted, m'Lady."

She groaned, taking her hand back to point at him. "If you call me that again, I'll get out of this bed and hit you." She shifted around under the covers, blushing when she realised she wasn't wearing all that much. "I'm not a Lady, alright George?"

"But-"

"I may be a noble by birth, but I haven't felt or acted like one for over seven years, if I ever did before then." She stated, finally. "If you call me Lady, then I'll call you King."

He laughed, "Good t'see that you ain't lost your sense o' humour, Alanna." She nodded, as if he shouldn't have expected anything less. "You were going t'ask me something, yesterday. Before you told me 'bout you being a noble." He fidgeted on his chair. "If you tell me what, I'll get on it. Give me something t'do like."

She nodded, grateful for a friend like George. "I haven't heard anything from my home in years. I was just wanting to know some of the basics, how things are going, how my father's holding up. No rush, really."

"I'll get someone on it, dun you worry, lass."

"Thanks." She smiled. Looking around the room, she asked; "George? Where are we?"

He frowned slightly, before he blushed slightly. "We're at m' mother's."

"I wasn't in the best position to visit your family yet, George." She joked.

"She's a healer." He answered her, dryly. "I weren't really thinking straight when Olly called me in." the smile dropped from his face. "You should o' seen y'self, Alanna. Y'looked like death."

"I'm alright now, George." She noted how worried his voice had sounded at the end there, "That's all that matters, right?"

He paled, "Y'wouldn't have been if Eleni-" she quirked an eyebrow, "My ma, -hadn't used her Gift on you, Alanna." She stiffened, "Y'very lucky."

Nodding to herself, Alanna realised how hungry she was. She asked George if he had any food she could eat. 

"Aye, lass." He answered, "Won't be a second." And he stood up from his chair. He hesitated just as he began to take off, looking down on her with an intense gaze. She thought he was going to- but no. After a moment, he shook his head slightly, whispered to himself, and strode out of the room.

***

After she had eaten, she ordered George from the room, managing to pull herself to her feet. She looked around the room for some clothes to wear – she was only wearing her tunic – but frowned after she saw no breeches that would fit her.

"Aie!" came a shout from behind her, "What are you doing out of bed, missy!" 

Turning slowly, she was still slightly woozy, she noticed a graying old woman standing beside the bed, hands on her hips. She was tapping her foot, and pointed a finger at the large bed.

"You get back in there, right now!"

"Misstress Eleni, I presume?" she said. The older woman nodded, "Look, I feel fine now, I just want to go back to my rooms a-"

"At the Dancing Dove? Phaw!" her mouth curled in distaste, "Not clean enough, no! Better that you just stay here, dearie." The last words had sounded innocent enough, but Alanna got the feeling that she would have to fight with all her strength to get the woman to change her mind.

"Please, Mistress E-"

"What's this Mistress garbage, girl? Call me Eleni and be done with it!"

"Eleni, sorry." She sighed, "Look. I am incredibly grateful for your aid, and it's not that I'm suddenly, ah, _ungrateful_." Elenis looked unconvinced, "It's just that I want to get back to the bed I'm used to, and show my friends that I'm ok."

"George can tell your friends that you're up, dearie. Now just lie down on the bed like a good girl, and I'll ge-"

"Eleni," she cut in again, this woman was obstinate! "I would just like to get dressed and head back to the Dancing Dove. George can probably make sure I get back alright, but I should be off. Get out of your hair." The woman was tapping her foot again, "Eleni. I may have taken a nasty blow yesterday, but I'm a fast healer. I'll be fine."

"No, dearie, better if you just lie down." This woman was too much like herself, Alanna thought. She didn't know when to give up. 

"Please, Eleni. I will be fine." Sighing, she pulled her last card, "I am Shang, after all."

"Yes, yes," the woman muttered, "I know all about that. Yes. The Falcon, no?"

Alanna frowned. "George told you?"

Eleni shook her head. "Oh no, dearie. It's all over town; the Fighting Falcon in the lower city, aye." Alanna paled. "What was it again? Oh yes, the tiny girl with the heart of a lion. Or something. I was never very good at remembering gossip." 

Alanna opened and closed her mouth a few times in surprise. "Er, regardless," she went on, after a while "Eleni, I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me where I can find my breeches, and then I'll head back with George."

"Breeches?" the woman almost shrieked, "Oh no, dearie! None of those, here." Alanna noticed a twinkle in the old woman's eyes, which did _not_ reassure her in the slightest. "No, if you're determined to leave now," she said, almost musing to herself, "You'll have to leave in one of those." She pointed behind Alanna. 

Turning, Alanna's eyes popped out of her head. There, behind her, was a rack of very pretty, very frilly, and very _revealing_ dresses. Her heart sank.

"Oh no."

The old woman laughed – Alanna thought it might almost be a cackle. "Of course, if you take my advice and stay here for a while longer, George can probably bring a few of your clothes over."

Alanna ground her teeth. This could well be the toughest test she had endured as Shang, it would take all her courage to walk outside wearing one of these, and she was worried that she wasn't up to it. But she wanted to get back to the Dove, to see Riven and Olly, and hopefully Arune. To fall asleep on her own bed, to have one of Nelly' meals. Was it worth the horror of wearing one of…_those_…however?

She steeled herself, drawing upon pools of untapped courage. "Let's do it."

The old woman smiled after a while – Alanna thought she caught her muttering 'Braver than I though' under her breath - and clapped her hands in delight. "We'll need some facepaint, too! And some hairpins…" she began to list off a whole bevy of items that she would need to make Alanna look 'pretty as a picture', and all Alanna could do was fight the growing feeling of dread that settled over her. 

As Eleni pulled out a large mirror from behind a screen, before handing her a dress that 'had just seemed to look the right size', Alanna had the distinct feeling that the woman had been playing her…

***

Alanna wobbled slightly, more from the high heeled boots than any remaining wooziness. The herbal broth Eleni had forced her to slurp had cleared her mind remarkably well. She gripped the skirts of the dress tightly as she descended the stairs, Eleni holding her elbow in support. She was also murmuring in her ear all the things she had to remember while wearing a dress, things Alanna hadn't heard in over seven years and which still filled her with horror.

"And remember to lift your boots high, since they could catch on the edge of the skirt," she said, "And remember to smooth them out when you sit. And watch out for them catching on anything, oh and ensure that it doesn't ride up-"

"Ride up?!" Alanna hissed; she snuck a look down at the open bodice of the dress, which displayed _far_ too much for her liking. "I'd greet such a thing with a song and a dance, I think!" 

"Don't be sarcastic, Alanna," Eleni chided, "It isn't becoming." 

Alanna just groaned. She stepped off the last step, and before she could sneak out the door, Eleni had grasped her elbow, dragging her towards another room. 

"George has to help see you back, dearie." She said. Alanna nodded, but she ground her teeth. "Stop that." 

"Great Mithros!" George stood in the center of the room, his eyes popping out of his head as he looked at Alanna. She blushed like the sun when his eye's moved down from her face.

"Not a word, Cooper!" she shrieked, "And look _up_, you filthy pig!"

George blushed, his eyes and mouth still wide open. He gulped, and his eyes darted downwards again. Oh, how she was going to hit him!

***

It had been a most horrible trip back to the Dove. She was in such a foul mood that anything he said was greeted with a grunt at best. He eventually gave up, and just contented himself with holding on to her elbow as he led her along the streets of Corus. She was still very unused to walking in such boots, and the rough ground didn't help. 

George was probably getting a thrill out of this, having to 'escort' the delicate maiden back to her rooms. She hated it, hated it more than she could say. Especially since he kept darting looks towards her. 

"Eyes forward, George." She seethed, again. 

He coughed. "I wasn't looking at anything, Alanna." His voice was filled with such innocence, that she just narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm going to hit you, once I get back into some proper clothes."

He grinned, "Aye. Wouldn't expect anything less." She rolled her eyes at him. "Y'do look very pretty, though lass."

"Shut up, George."


	7. Backlash

When they reached the door of the Dancing Dove, she paused. She wanted to get inside, no doubt about that – not only were there her proper clothes inside, but she'd been getting looks from random people all the way back. Not to mention, she thought with some heat, from Mr. Cooper beside me.

She shot him a look. He gave her a cocky grin – it was at least nice to see that again. She'd been worried that after what she revealed to him yesterday that they'd no longer be close, but it appeared that he'd worked through it, or at least she hoped he had. She supposed that being paraded by the King of Thieves in a ridiculous outfit – she refused to consider it a dress; it was too, well, _small_ to be considered a dress, she thought – through the streets of Corus was shaming enough for her. Perhaps it would square the balance, so to speak. Besides, she did want to get back to the Dancing Dove as soon as she could, re-establish whatever kind of friendship she had shared with George there, rather than at his mothers house.

Not that there was really anything wrong with his mother. Truth be told, she enjoyed the woman's company – despite her obstinate, interfering nature. Actually, Alanna thought with a grin, that's probably what she liked most about the other woman. True, she had schemed to get Alanna in this outrageous costume, walking about in the middle of the day, no less; but she _had_, from George's account, practically saved her life.

"So," George asked, "You going in, lass? Or do you want t' stay out here a while longer?" he flashed his teeth in a grin, "Give a bit more o' a show."

Her cheeks flushed, and she jabbed her friend in the ribs. "Get inside, George." She hoped that she could hide herself behind his taller body; well, it _used_ to be taller. The heeled boots she wore increased her height by a great deal, she was quite enamoured with _those_, actually. "And I want to see you moving towards the stairs as soon as you get in, ok?"

"Aye lass," he said, "Though I dun see what you're so worried about."

"I'm not worried," she hissed, "I'd just rather they don't see me like this."

"An' why would you bereft them o' such a wonderful sight, darlin'?"

She glared at him, though she was somewhat bemused by the 'darling' remark. "Just get inside, Cooper. And then you'd better get Nelly to get some ice out for you. You're going to need it when I'm done with you."

He grinned again, and opened the doors widely. She grabbed a hold of his coat, and slinked in after him, crouching down low as she went. Various people called out to him, and George took great delight in spending longer than was necessary in greeting them in return. She kicked the backs of his leg's when he was taking to long, and eventually people began to notice her.

"Oi, George!" came the cry from one man, a reed thin sort known as Marek, "Who'you got there?"

"Oh, just a friend, Marek." George replied, solemnly. "Though I think she might be 'alf chicken, or something."

Alanna scowled from behind his back, pinching his rump in anger. George yelped, and the room roared with laughted. 

"Chicken's got a bite, though, eh George!?" Marek yelled through his mirth. She noticed Riven in the corner, coming in from the kitchen. 

"'Ey George!" he yelled when he saw the man. George turned, and Alanna cursed. She tried to get behind him again, but George just grabbed her, keeping her where she was. She could get out, but she'd have attracted attention to herself. "'Ow's 'lanna?"

George smiled, and she knew he was going to do something. Something that he'd regret, she added to herself.

"Take a look f'yourself, Riven!" and he pulled her in front of him. She squawked in protest, but she couldn't keep her balance well enough in the heeled boots to prevent him from moving her about easily. She shut her eyes, expecting the room to burst into laughter. She had dreaded just such a moment, for her friends here to see her in another of her 'guises'. Alanna the woman, rather than just Alanna the Shang. Or even just Alanna, the girl in breeches who talked with them all, laughing at their crude jokes and threatening them with violence. 

Instead of laughter, however, the only sounds she could hear were shocked gasps. Or mutterings, or derivations of 'Sweet Mithros!'

She cracked an eye open, and noticed that most everyone in the room was gaping at her. George was smiling, and not one of them was laughing. Riven took a step towards her.

"'lanna?" he asked, "Is that you?"

She looked at him, mouth opening and closing. She couldn't handle everyone staring at her like this. It was strange, she was so prepared for them to laugh at her that she couldn't handle this; this shocked silence. This look of awe on many of the faces she saw frightened her; it was as if they'd never seen her before. Oh why couldn't _anyone_ accept the entirety of what she was!? Why was she so frightened of letting anyone see all of her, rather than just layers?

"I-I-I…" she stuttered, her mind seemingly incapable of forming words. All of a sudden, she just _had_ to be out of there, and taking in a great gasp of air, hitched up her skirts and ran up the stairs, slamming the door as she went.

She threw herself down on the bed, hot tears spearing her eyes. She wouldn't cry, no she wouldn't. Not over this, not over a _dress_, for the Goddesses sake! She turned onto her back, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. She noticed that the facepaint that Eleni had applied to her face came away on her hand, much to her disgust. She picked up a corner of the sheet, and wiped the rest of her face with it, removing most of the oily material. Lying back on her bed, she blew her hair out of her face. Eleni had 'styled' her hair, too, coiling it around her head slightly. She liked the look of it, actually. Purely from a combat perspective, though! It kept the strands out of her face. She scrunched up her face – _who was she kidding?_

She looked down at herself, frowning at the overly feminine dress. The open bodice that dipped down much too far, displaying the tops of her breasts. The pale lace at the sides of the hem, the elegant sleeves of the dress. The material was probably wool, not something like silk, but it still felt very smooth compared to the itchy woolen breeches and tunics she always wore. It wasn't what a Lady would consider a 'good' dress, she imagined, but it was the most female item of clothing she had worn in almost a decade.

As she looked down, she noticed her pendant sparkling in the low light. She reached down, pulling the chain so it slipped out of the dress, holding the gem between her fingers. Thom had accepted her, had accepted the entirety of her. So it could be done, she realised, just that she'd not met anyone besides Thom who did so. Not all of her, only the parts they wanted to see. She wondered what Thom was like when he was here, in Corus. Did he find it as troubling as she? She suddenly remembered her thought about George possibly knowing her brother, she'd have to follow up on that. Did he talk to anyone else when he was here? George's 'noble friend' Johnny had talked to him, she again remembered – she'd have to talk to him as well. 

She sighed. She should focus on Thom, that was the reason she came here in the first place, wasn't it? No, not strictly – she remembered what she had thought to herself when she had named Swift; that it was the first step towards a new identity, a combined identity. Which, she realised sadly, led her back to where she was now.

"Alanna?" George's voice sounded from the door. "You in there?"

"Go away!" she shouted. She didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, just wanted to lie here.

She heard him sigh, before he cracked open the door. He slid through, closing it behind him again. Rolling her eyes, she raised herself to a sitting position on the side of the bed. He stood with his back leaning on the closed door, looking at her. 

"What do you want, George?"

He pursed his lips. "I want t'know why you ran out like that."

She put on her best 'upper class' voice; "Oh, it was these boots! They were so constrictive, I felt like my feet were on _fire!_ I simply _had_ to get off them!" He just cocked his head, his serious gaze never leaving hers. She sighed, "I don't know, George. Can you just drop it?"

"No, lass." He murmured, "I think you do know."

"You think I'm lying to you." She said, realizing what George was getting at. She stood, stepping towards him.

"Well, aren't you?" he said, disbelievingly, crossing his arms.

"No," she said, slowly. "I'm just not telling you."

"Bloody…! Alanna! What's the difference?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "Never mind, George. It's not something I want to talk about."

"Why not?"

"Because it's _personal_, Cooper." She growled, taking another step forward "And I don't want to share it." To punctuate her point, she jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger. "If you can't accept that, George Cooper, then-!" she was cut off as he suddenly enfolded her in his arms, bringing his lips to hers. His hands moved over her back, tracing the hemlines of the dress. 

When he pulled away from her a moment later, she just stood there. She didn't know what to think at this moment, really. She'd spared some thoughts imagining what just such a thing would have been like in the past, true, but it was still so unexpected. It was nice, true, but nice in the sense that warm milk was nice, she found. Her eyes just looked into his for a while. She found herself unable to gauge what he might be thinking; the hazel eyes that were normally so expressive now were like stone chips. She thought her own eyes must telegraph her confusion, but after a while he moved his head back towards her own. She made a split second decision, placing a hand on his chest, stopping him. 

"George," she whispered raggedly. His shoulders seemed to sag, and his head dropped.

"I'm sorry, lass." He whispered, sadly, after a beat. "I'll- I dun mean t'do that." And he turned quickly, opening the door and walking out. 

"George!" she called after him, wiping her lips. "George wait!" but by the time she had thrown the door open, he was gone. She thought about following him downstairs, but then realised that there was no point. She had no idea what she would have said, anyway. She closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. Why had she rejected him? Why did she have to reject him so _absolutely?_ She knew that she'd hate herself in the morning for what she had just done; she still wanted him as a friend, at the very least, after all. Never mind what was beyond that.

She cursed silently, before pulling the door closed with a soft click. There was no point mulling over it now, especially with the fact that she was still slightly weak from her head injury. She reached behind her, undoing the buttons on the ridiculous dress. Shedding herself of it, she allowed the material to pool on the floor. She looked at it sadly for a while, before sitting on the bed, pulling off her heeled boots. Stowing them under the bed, she pulled on a tunic, and slipped under the covers. 

***

"I can't believe he did that," she told Him, "I mean, I have thought of him like that before, I guess. But-" she trailed off. She was kneeling on a blanket in a garden somewhere. She noted, with some surprise, that she was wearing a sheer white dress, its' surface covered in a few grass stains. He lay next to her, cutting an apple with a knife.

_"But what?" he asked, and she shrugged. He grinned, and pointed a slice of apple at her "You're just annoyed because he caught you off guard, aren't you?" he popped the slice in his mouth, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at her. _

"No! I-" she stopped short of finishing the sentence as she realised he was probably right. Pouting, she lay down beside him, propping her head up on her elbow. "You're too smart for your own good." She told him sullenly.   
He chuckled. "I'm not smart," he offered her the slice of apple, and she opened her mouth. He rolled his eyes, feeding it to her. "I just know you, Alanna." 

_She snorted. "I don't even know your name," laughing at his furrowed brow – what else could she expect; she chewed on the apple. "Oh don't worry," she told him, "I just-" she cut off as the piece of apple lodged in her throat. She began coughing uncontrollably, her bodies instinctive reaction to anything blocking her airway. The coppery tang of blood in her mouth was her first sign that something was seriously wrong, something that was firmly established when her next hacking cough sent a sharp pain spreading through her body. The pain subsided in an instant, though it remained in a hot ring around her throat. She raised her hands, and realised that a wide slash had been made into the skin, deep red blood flowing from the wound over her fingers. It ran down her neck in great rivulets, staining the front of her dress a deep pink, the material sticking to her chest_

_"Mithros! Alanna!" He had begun clapping her on the back once she began to choke, but he rocked back in shock as her throat was somehow suddenly slit. "Alanna!"_

_She looked on, silently, as his face became paler and paler. She tried to call out to him, but all that emerged was a wet gurgle, accompanied by more of the viscous fluid falling from the slash. Feeling her life drain out of her, she collapsed on the blanket in heap._

_"Alanna!" he cried, "Alanna!" She tried to reach out to him with blood-covered arms, but she was too weak to raise them. "No!"_

"No!" 

She shot up in her bed, panting as she sat. Reaching wary hands to her throat, her fingers found unblemished skin. She exhaled loudly, her mind reeling with what had just occured. The dream was, as always, so vivid; but…what had _happened?_ The dreams had been corrupted, or something, or was this just a one-off event? She hoped so, though she knew she'd never be able to live through one of the dreams again without the sense of horror she had felt in this one. Why did it happen though? What was the significance of a slit throat, if any?

She sighed, and shook her head. Not knowing why she had begun to have the dreams in the first place meant she had no idea of why there were differences in the latest one. She was still feeling the after affects of what had happened with George earlier, too. Her emotions felt utterly drained. Hot tears stung her eyes, and she realised she was trembling. The dream had just been so disturbing; she didn't know how to cope. She curled up in her bed, crying to herself till she fell into a dreamless slumber of exhaustion, the day had been just far too strenuous for even she. 

***

It was a few days later, lying in her bed in the minutes before dawn, that she realised things had fallen apart for her entirely. 

George had been avoiding her completely, and she had been forced to leave messages with Riven or his mother if she wanted to discuss something with him at all. Her requests to talk to him had been met with a steadfast refusal, though not in any offensive manner. George was always 'too busy', or was 'seeing to matters'. She was desperate to talk to him; she still didn't know what she _wanted_ for them, of course, but she knew that this – this avoidance of each other – was not going to be good for either of them. At the least, she reminded herself, she wanted to remain friends with the man. And she still hadn't fully thought over what being _more_ than just friends would mean for her, for them, so she hadn't ruled that out. Of course, she had no idea how the man himself felt on the matter, since he would barely even glance in her direction. 

The dreams seemed to have been irrevocably changed, too. Each night was no longer greeted with a smile, but a grimace. They were now horrific visions of what had once been her sanctuary, seeing herself beaten or maimed every night. She had begun to work herself to exhaustion, hoping not to dream. She had even visited Eleni, asking the woman if she knew any herbs which could prevent dreams. The old woman had been curt to her, far colder than she had been the other day, and had told her no such herb existed. Alanna remembered the growing sense of despair that had settled upon her that day, and realised that it had not eased in the slightest. 

The only point of brightness she had experienced was when Arune entered the Dove one day, after hearing of her recovery. He had apologized profusely for what he had considered his slip up, but she had waved such apologies aside. He'd still been penitent, but she had convinced him that she thought nothing of it, and so neither should he. After a while, he began to spar with her again, and just yesterday had finally let himself go with her, not holding back in fear of 'his slip' happening again. He'd also mentioned once or twice that he was staying in the palace, and that he should join him there – at least for a visit, if not to stay - to show 'the upstart knights' just how skilled a Shang was. She'd rebuffed him the first time he brought it up, saying that she was sure that he was enough Shang for the both of them, but it began to look a more and more pleasant idea. Especially since George was being so cold to her; the Dove was becoming less of a happy place for her. Sighing, she thanked whatever God or Goddess had sent Arune into the Dove that day – without his presence and being able to fall back into her training, she thought that she would have gone insane.

She pulled the pendant out of her shirt, examining it like she did almost every morning. She still hadn't been able to get any more information, although that was to be expected, what with George's avoidance of her. She had toyed with the idea of asking some of her own queries, but felt that she'd get no further than what George had already told her. She still hadn't told Arune why she was here, exactly, though he knew she was looking for something in particular, and the prospect of coming into contact with a noble who had known Thom during his stay here was another attraction of Arune's proposal. 

She sighed. But still, George was her best bet to find information for her. To get in contact with 'Johnny' again, not to mention the other things she had asked of him. She needed him for that alone, if not any more. Though she was beginning to think she might need him for more as the day's dragged on and he continued to shun her.

Throwing off the covers, she pulled on some clothes, before padding outside to train in the early morning chill. Clearing her mind of thoughts of Thom, Arune and most especially of one George Cooper, she lost herself in the Shang _kata's_; feet and fists flying in intricate combinations and patterns. Deciding to forego sword practice for the day, she turned to retrieve the small sweat towel she had brought out with her. Standing just beside a large wooden beam, not some ten metres away, George was watching her. As he realised she had seen him, he started to slink backwards. She pounced, racing towards him, planting herself in front of him. He swiftly turned away from her, and she grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him up against the side of the building. A silence fell between them, interspersed with heavy breathing from both of them. Alanna had, after all, just been exercising, and George had been fairly roughly manhandled. 

"George," she eventually began, slowly, finding herself unable to meet his eyes. "Can we talk?"

"What 'bout?" he murmured, making sure that his eyes were focused over her shoulder. "T'men I sent up t'Trebond ain't reported back, yet. Lass."

"What?" she said, confused for the moment. "That's not important right now." She replied, shaking her head. "Can we just talk about, things?"

"What d'you mean by that, lass?"

She frowned at him; he was being difficult. She decided to just be blunt. "Why are you avoiding me, George?"

He looked at her then, his hazel eyes harder than she remembered. "I ain't. I just have things t'do, I do."

"Do you have something to do now?"

"I-I-I…" he spluttered, "I'm out here to," he looked vainly about the street. "Uhh."

"George…"

"What?" he suddenly spat at her, "What about you? Aren't you avoidin' me too?"

"What?! No!"

"You are!" he said, "You're spending all day w' that Shang fellow! You could have talked t'me before now!"

"I tried!" she replied, exasperated. "You were always 'busy', remember?"

"I _was_ busy!" he hissed at her disbelieving tone, "An' every time I wanted to speak t'you, you were out with Arune! So don't go blamin' this all on me, lass!"

Gaping at him, she realised his problem. "You're jealous, aren't you? Of Arune." She was astonished. George blushed slightly, turning his head away from her, and she realised she was right. "Believe me, I don't think about him like _that!_" She almost giggled. Arune was nice, but she wasn't interested in him in the slightest. "George, please. Just talk to me." She pinched her lips together, "And if it helps, then I'm sorry for avoiding you."

He exhaled softly, "Aye, lass." He conceded, "Me too." She nodded at him. The silence stretched between them again, though it was slightly less uncomfortable this time. George brought a hand up, massaging the back of his neck. He eventually spoke, "I'm sorry for what I did the other day, too."

"What, the kiss?" he nodded, blushing "George, don't be sorry about that." 

He looked at her seriously, his eyes searching her own. She noticed that the sparkle had returned to them. "Aye lass?" his voice had a somewhat hopeful lilt to it. 

It was her turn to blush; she hadn't intended to get quite this far, as it were. "Uh, well." She stammered out, "You shouldn't be sorry, because you were just expressing your feelings, right?" she went on before he could comment. "But I won't lie to you George, I don't know how I feel. Not about you, or my feelings for you. But I do want you as a friend, George. Whatever else happens or doesn't happen."

That didn't seem to be the answer he had been hoping for, and his brow furrowed slightly. "Well," he began, slowly, "What _do_ you feel?"

"I don't know, George." She turned, "Confused, mostly. I mean-… I don't know what I mean. I-I felt that we _could_ have had something, you know?"

"Could?"

She nodded, "I know that when I didn't tell you I was a noble, that it hurt you. But when you didn't accept me- that _part _of me, it hurt me, too."

"But I do accept it, lass." He turned her towards him, his warm hands on her shoulders. "I do." His voice pleaded with her to believe him.

"You don't, George." She told him, softly. "You told me you didn't like liars, so you should stop lying to yourself."

He just looked at her for a long moment, and she could almost hear him thinking. "Aye," he said, sadly, "You're probably right." He shrugged,  "I dun no, I was raised t'believe every noble'd turn on you t'better 'imself."

She nodded, "And it's probably a good way to look at them, George. Most of them, anyway." She clasped her hands, "But I can't deny the fact that I am noble. I may not like it about myself, especially when people try and treat me like a Lady, but it _is_ a part of who I am." She sighed, "I don't act like one, as you know, and if I could stop being one, then I would, but-"

"Then do stop, Alanna!" he interjected, "Just be you, be Alanna! Never act like the Lady that you say you 'ate, never tell anyone that you're a Trebond! You don't 'ave t'be some Noble Shang, lass! Come and be common like the rest o' us!" he took her hands in his. The unspoken ending to his question – _come be common with me_ – hung in the air.

"I _can't_, George," she told him, "I- I just can't. It-" she groaned to herself in frustration. "I don't know! I don't know what I mean! By the Goddess, why am I so confused!?"

"Life is like that, lass."

"What, confusing?" he led her to a small bench along the side of the Dove, sitting her down next to him. 

"Aye." He looked at her then, an intense gaze, and she flung her arms around him.

"Oh George," she said, head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, lass?" has asked, stroking her back. She just sniffled at him, and they sat in silence for a while, her head on his shoulder. He smoothed her black locks down along her back, and she felt so at peace. Her mind wandered, wondering if she was about to make a big mistake; she could perhaps try what he had suggested, try hiding her nobility again, try and forget her past at Trebond, with Thom. She sniffled again, and his arms tightened around her. No. She couldn't do that; she couldn't pretend to be someone that she wasn't, it wouldn't be fair to her. But she did care for George, cared for him deeply, and she felt horrible for what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry, George," she whispered, "we just wouldn't work." The hand on her back stopped, and she raised her head, peering into his haunted eyes. He looked down at her, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. 

"What if I told you that I was in love wit' you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, she hadn't been expecting that. She had known that the kiss he had given her before wasn't one of pure lust, so he had feelings for her – she felt that at least through the kiss. But _love_?

"Are you, George? Are you really?" she asked him, gazing into his eyes. He just crushed his lips to hers, letting him feel his love for her. She returned the kiss hungrily, her loneliness and desperation meeting his love for her. Their tongues dueled with each other, and her hands roamed through his hair. His in turn threaded through her raven strands, eventually moving lower, beginning to caress her body through her woolen tunic, running over her shoulders and down her back. She moaned into his mouth, and then stiffened as she realised just what she was doing; using him.

He felt her sudden hesitation, and reluctantly pulled away from her. Her vision blurred, and she realised she was crying freely. Tears welled out of her eyes, running down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs, but he knew what they meant. She was peering into his eyes when his heart broke.

"Aye lass," he told her, his voice full of emotion. "I understand."

"I'm sorry, George," she whispered again. "I'm sorry." She put a hand on his thigh.

He nodded. "Will-" he stopped for a moment, clenching his eyes shut. "Will you be movin' out o' the Dove?" he asked. 

"What would you like me to do?" 

He exhaled under his breath. He sat for a while, head facing forward. Eventually, he looked down, and placed his hand on hers; entwining their fingers, "Stay, please." She smiled, slightly. "I'd still like t'be friends, aye?" she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I do care about you, George. Just-"

"Just not enough, I understand." He looked at her again, his eyes red "I think I'd like t'be alone for a while, lass." 

She understood, and rose from the bench. He held onto her hand for a while, until he slowly pried his fingers away from her own. His face betrayed no emotion as they finally slid free, but she knew that he was hurting. She left him on the bench, as she returned to her room. She threw herself onto her bed, and let the tears flow.


	8. and Beginnings

(Hey, groovy. It appears that I can't tell what the date is! Funnn…*hits self with shoe* Duh…Idiot)

I'd also like to apologise for the travesty of writing that was the last chapter. I just re-read it and, well…it wasn't very well written. (I think some parts of it didn't even make sense!) *Sigh* Maybe I should re-do it. No, wait, that would require _effort_…so scratch that idea *grins* .Oh well, no harm done, I guess. It got across what I was trying to say, but not very _well_. I don't know…maybe I'm just pedantic. (And yes, that is the correct answer). Hopefully it made sense to people…!

This chapter is a little longer than the last few, the reason why is because a lot of stuff _happens_. I actually was intending to go a little further, but…uhh…probably realised that that would make the chapter well over 10,000 words. Which might be a little large.

Thanks goes out to the those who a) reviewed and b) those who pointed out where I was glaringly stupid *laughs*

I actually went back and corrected a lot of the more obvious mistakes when I righted the look of the chapters, so…thanks for that! J 

And one final thing – can _anyone_ please tell me what Gary looks like? I know that he's got brown hair, but apart from that I'm totally stuck! Aiee!

***

When she eventually emerged from her room, hours later, she was somewhat disheartened to discover that George wasn't present. She'd asked Nelly if she'd seen him, but the burly innkeeper had merely shrugged her shoulders in denial. Alanna chewed on her lip, hoping that George would be able to deal with her rejection this time better than he had the first time; after he had kissed her. She contented herself with the knowledge that at least this time she'd explained herself to him. Explained herself, she noted, with surprising clarity and honesty. It was the first time she'd ever opened herself up like that, letting it all just wash out, and it felt surprisingly cathartic.

Moving out of the Nelly's kitchen, she noticed that Arune was sitting at one of the large tables, animatedly conversing with Riven and a few other youngsters. She trotted over to him, just catching the last part of whatever story he was telling them.

…"should have seen it!" his voice rang out across the room, "It was _the_ most outrageous thing an Initiate could have done, and he couldn't sit for a _month_ after the masters were done with him!" he roared with laughter, and the youths followed suit.

"What are you telling them, Arune?" she asked, confused. "Hopefully not more ways for them to get into mischief."

He looked up at her, grinning. "Oh don't worry, Falcon; they just wanted to know about some of the other Shang. Riven here-" he ruffled the boys hair, which Riven didn't seem to like, scrunching up his face in annoyance "-especially wanted to know what you were like as an Initiate."

Looking sidewards at the youth in question, she hesitantly asked "And what, pray tell, have you been telling him?"

"Oh, nothing but the truth, Alanna." His smile widened as she groaned. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them the one about your breeches, some mice, and a lot of water."

Alanna blushed fiercely. "If you _had_," she hissed at him, "I would have shoved your face into a cow pat!" Arune spluttered at her threat, while the youths around the table gave her expectant looks, probably wanting to know what the story involved. "Oh don't think for a moment I'll tell you about _that_ one; it's certainly not one for children."

Riven snorted. "You ain't much older than me, 'lanna." 

"He's got a point there, Falcon." Arune pointed out, infuriatingly.

"I-I," she fumbled, before putting on a haughty expression. "They wouldn't get it; it only makes sense if you were there." And she nodded in satisfaction. Arune just gave her a skeptical look. 

Riven had a similar expression on his face. "I bet it was real embarrasin', or something, an' that's why you-"

"No it wasn't." Alanna interjected, "Don't be silly. Now," she said, attempting to steer the conversation away from _that_ particular story, "Does either of you know where George went?"

Arune shook his head. Riven chimed in, noting, "Wherever 'e went, 'e looked glum." Alanna made a vexed sound, looking towards the door. She should probably try and find him, though she didn't really know where to start looking. Maybe she should ask Eleni…?

"Alanna," Arune hesitantly said, breaking her out of her reverie. She turned back to him, "Can I ask you a favour?"

"You can ask."

"I'm supposed to be teaching some of the palace squires this afternoon, just some basic drills in hand to hand combat." She nodded; Arune had been commissioned by the Palace to help train squires and knights (Though knights, she remembered with a smile, referred to it as 'honing their skills', rather than 'training'), in return for his lodging there. "And I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me."

She frowned, somewhat suspicious of his motives. "Why?"

Arune coloured, slightly. "Well, uh." He scratched his head, "You've done basic Shang training more recently than I have?" he offered, lamely. She glared at him, and he relented. "Ok, I should tell you the truth." He looked away from her, adding in a mumble, "It's because someoftheknightswanttomeetyou."

"Huh?"

"Some of the knights want to meet you." He clarified, now looking down at his feet in an oh-so-guilty fashion.

"Why do they want to do that?" she asked, confused. "Unless…" he was definitely blushing now, "Oh no." She was going to _kill_ him. "You haven't, have you? Don't tell me you've talking about me with them."

"Well," he spluttered, awkwardly. "In my defence they'd already _heard_ all about the 'Fighting Falcon'. Some of them told me that they even saw the bout we had the other day! I-I just, you know…cleared up some of the details." She groaned at him. "Come on, Falcon, they're not that bad. You've never even heard of any of them, so I don't know why you're so against meeting them."

"I suppose not," she sighed, "I just don't like talking to nobles in general."

"I think you'll find that these particular nobles are nothing like the one's you're against."

"Whatever you say, Arune. Alright, I'll go with you." Her mouth opened in a toothy grin, "At least I'll be able to do something I've wanted to do for a while. I'll finally be able to see just how good these knights really are."

"Great!" Arune grinned. "You don't know how much these guys have wanted to meet you." He smiled at her for a short moment, before he noticed something behind her. His face lit up, and he rubbed his hands together. "Of course, we don't need to go for a while, so I'll just have some lunch here first. Yes, yes. No rush." He trailed off. She turned, and noticed Nelly walking towards them, plates of food in her arms. She deposited one in front of Arune, winking at him as she left. Alanna quirked her eyebrows at _that_.

"Palace food that bad?" Riven slyly asked Arune, as the Shang licked his lips.

"Ahh," the man struck a classic thinking pose, hand on his chin. "Not so much the food, just the formality that goes with it." Alanna unconsciously nodded, remembering the few 'family' meals she had been forced to attend in her youth, with her father calling for _proper decorum_ at the table. "I mean, I see food," he motioned at the plate in front of him. "I want to _eat_ food. I don't want to cut my food into tiny pieces and ensure that I'm 'properly covered' before I eat." He grabbed a meaty bone, and began to chew on it. "See?"

Alanna agreed with him, about the manners and formality of noble eating, but she hoped she didn't look like _that_ when she ate. "You look like a dog, Arune."

"Better than a horse, right?" he grinned at her. "I'm moving up." Just to prove her right, he put the bone in between his teeth, and growled at her.

She rolled her eyes at his behaviour, and he laughed, removing the bone from his mouth. "I'll be back in a bit, ok? Don't worry," she qualified, after seeing his questioning look,  "I'll still come and 'entertain' your noble friends. I just have to do something first."

***

Trotting down the crowded streets of Lower Corus, Alanna wondered what exactly she was doing. She had decided to speak to Eleni, to try and figure out where George had gone. Although, she noted with dismay, she'd probably not have enough time to track him down if he was any real distance away. Arune had mentioned that she should meet him at the palace gates at around an hour after noon. That left her scant little time, but she was determined to speak to George's mother, if for nothing else than to hope that she could clear the waters with her.

She liked Eleni, after all, and was somewhat disturbed by what had transpired at their last meeting. The older woman had been surprisingly curt with her, when she had previously been nothing but open, albeit domineering. She assumed that it had to do with what had occurred between herself and Eleni's son, but now that things were cleared up – so to speak, she hoped to get on good terms with the woman again. She wasn't exactly sure _why_ she was making such an effort, but she resigned herself to following her gut instinct. Perhaps Eleni had lied when Alanna had asked about herbs to block dreams? 

Alanna scrunched her nose up; she didn't think the old woman would purposefully mislead her, no. But she might have remembered something since their last meeting, remembered a way to stop the dreams. The dreams that were still coming strong, and still containing disturbing and horrific images that woke her in a terror.

Shuddering, Alanna tried in vain to forget what she had been forced to see each night. The images were burned in her mind, however, and now that she had lingered on them for a while, they sprang unbidden to the front of her mind. She knew that they upset her probably slightly more than they should; although watching one's own death in graphic detail every night probably wasn't exactly supposed to be comforting. The problem was, she realised, the fact that she had once felt such warmth in them, such wonder. The dreams _used_ to be a refuge of sorts for her, an escape from the problems that beset her in the waking world. Now they…scared her. She didn't like that, not a whit.

But what was she to do? She was still no closer to understanding why the dreams had begun in the first place. Maybe it was for the best that they'd changed, it meant she couldn't live in fantasy any more. If she could find a way to block them, that is; she'd not get a good nights rest, otherwise.

Eleni's house was just around the corner, she realised with a start, and put such deep thoughts to the side for the moment. She found the dark wooden door with ease, and rapped hesitantly upon its surface with her knuckles. After a while, she heard sounds of movement behind the door, and the large frame creaked as the woman pulled it open. Her creased face popped around the door, frowning slightly when she realised who it was that had knocked on her door.

"Yes?" she asked, stonily. "Can I help you with something?"

Alanna grimaced. "I don't suppose you would have seen George today, would you?" she wanted to be friends with the woman, but damned if she was going to make the first move towards conciliation. "I need to speak to him."

"Really?" the other woman crossed her arms, "I don't suppose that it crossed your mind that George didn't want to speak to you."

"We spoke quite well this morning, all things considered." Alanna seethed; the woman didn't know what she was talking about! She had _no idea_ of what had happened! Did she? Would she still have been angry at her if she knew what had happened this morning? She could be, Alanna felt, but she probably wouldn't be quite as caustic as she was now. This was the same way she had talked to Alanna earlier in the week. She obviously _didn't_ know what had happened, then. She decided that taking a step back might therefore be best, adding; "I just needed to apologise again." There, she thought, that should placate her. Probably get her wondering what had been said 'this morning', too. 

Eleni looked at her for a moment, measuring her. Eventually, she uncrossed her arms. "No," she stated, "I've not seen my son today. Don't tell me he's in trouble again?" the faintest signs of a smile were showing on the other woman's lips, Alanna noticed.  

She shook her head, returning the smile. "No. Well," she qualified, "Not to my knowledge."

Eleni laughed. "You've got a good sense of humour, Alanna of Shang." Her face turned serious after a moment, "I take it this talk you had with my son this morning concerned-"

"-Matters of a personal nature," Alanna broke in, "Yes." She didn't _particularly_ feel like discussing the travesty that was her romantic life with the mother of a man she cared for. Eleni seemed to accept that, nodding. Alanna felt that she was probably owed the truth, though. "I fear it probably wasn't what George wanted to hear, though." She softly added. "I wanted to see that he wasn't doing something- I don't know…"

"Harmful?" Eleni suggested. 

She nodded slowly. "I do care about him, and I don't want to see him hurt. I don't think he would, though. To himself, I mean. "

Eleni smiled. "You're a good girl, Alanna."

"Thanks. I think." Alanna scratched her head. "Uh, if you do see George, could you tell him that I want to see him?" the other woman nodded, and Alanna smiled. She was glad that the woman didn't seem to harbour any resentment towards her, not anymore. Even, she thought with a shock, though she can probably guess what I told George this morning. She suddenly remembered the dreams, and wanting to ask Eleni about the possibility of a herb (or something- Anything!) to block them. She was just about to open her mouth to ask the other woman, when she realised just how high in the sky the sun was. Arune would be waiting for her; she had to go. "Are you- uh, can I speak to you later about something, Eleni?"

"Of course you can, dear." Alanna thanked her, and took off at a sprint towards the palace. 

***

It dominated the skyline of Corus, so it wasn't all that difficult to find. What _was_ difficult, Alanna had found, was actually winding her way through the mass of people that populated the streets of Lower Corus at this time of day. Having to elbow people out of the way, having her feet trodden on and the like truly aggravated her. Despite knowing that the streets were always like this at this hour, it seemed ten times as worse for herself; her height condemning her to constantly walking into people and places who had been hidden from her eyes by another person in the crowd. She could see the palace at all times, of course, so she knew she was heading in the right direction, but it was slightly disconcerting to not really be able to see much of what was around her.

It seemed that today was a particularly busy day. She had no idea why, though the cries of some people ahead were probably related to the inflated size of the horde. It seemed, she realised after getting a look at the people in question, that this was some kind of procession; with some Mithronian priests leading the crowd in chanting and prayer. 

She was somewhat put off by the scene, and decided to slip out of the crush. She darted into a back alley, and attempted to find another way towards the palace.

***

In the maze of the darkened back alleys, however, her height was just as much of a problem as it was in the crowded streets. She wasn't able to see what direction the palace was in, and so was just hoping for the best. She knew that it was situated to the western side of the city, and that by traveling north-west she would eventually find herself near it, but she had been turned around and around so many times in these alleys that she had _no_ idea of where north and west even _were_!

As she turned another corner to come face to face with yet _another_ dead end, she released her frustration on the wall in front of her. Her fist stung, and it helped her current situation not a whit, but she felt a little better. She muttered a curse; wasn't someone supposed to have made sure this kind of thing didn't happen? That streets were actually _designed_? She kicked a small pile of refuse that lay next to a wall, and watched as some scraps of paper floated away. Maybe she should just backtrack and follow the main road again. At least then she'd know what direction was which. She'd just turned around, heading back the way she came, when she heard voicesfloating down the alley towards her.

"Aye, and 'e'll be ready f'us?" the man's lilting voice reverberated off the narrow walls of the alley, amplifying the sound. Alanna pressed herself back into the dead end, pushing herself flush with the wall. She wasn't exactly sure _why_ she had done so, and was even about to push off the wall and continue to stroll back down the alley, when a second voice came crashing down the narrow streets.

"Yes, he'll be waiting for you." For some reason, the cultured voice sounded hauntingly familiar to Alanna, though she couldn't tell exactly why that was. The acoustics of the alley, it seemed, might have altered his voice too much for her to instantly recognise it. "And you know what to do, yes? About _him_?"

"Yeah, yeah." The first man replied, and was then silent. She was now able to make out footsteps, and pressed herself further back into the bricks behind her, schooling her breathing so that it was as quiet as it could be. The footsteps carried to her left – going past the dead end, and began to eventually fade away. She quickly snuck a look around the corner, but it appeared that the men had passed around a few of the endless corners, and had passed from her sight. She grimaced in annoyance.

'About him', the cultured one had said. Who was 'him'? What could they be talking about? She had no idea, though it would probably bear some thought at a later time. For now, however, she needed to get to the Palace. The sun had passed its' zenith a while ago, and she was afraid Arune would be in a foul mood at her lateness. Oh well, at least he'd be taking it out on Nobles and not her, she thought with a grin, before retracing her steps as fast as she could, attempting to find her way back to the main street. Eventually finding it, she was glad to find the procession long gone, and sprinted for the palace.

***

"There you are!" Arune's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Where have you been, Falcon?" 

The name caused a few of the people hanging around the dart glances back towards her. Uncomfortable, Alanna prodded Arune onwards. "Sorry about that," she told him once they were off the main street. "I had to avoid the most direct route here." She told him, distracted. Frowning slightly as she thought over what she had been distracted by, she felt Arune take her by the elbow. 

"Are you alright? You look a hundred miles from here."

She waved his question away. "No, I'm fine." She focused herself, pushing any frivolous thoughts aside, and pointed to the gates. "Shall we?"

He looked at her quizzically for a while, before smiling. "We shall." 

***

They made their way through the Royal Gardens, the verdant green at such odds with the city outside the palace walls that Alanna thought for a moment that they had entered another world. Which, she supposed, was true, in a fashion at least. It sickened Alanna somewhat to see the prosperity of those within the palace walls in comparison to those outside.

"It is just the way things are, Alanna." Arune told her sadly when she mentioned it. "How would we even begin to go about changing it?"

She didn't know, instead restraining her frustration to the occasional grimace whenever she saw the Lords and Ladies strolling past in their incredible outfits. The dress of one Lady, she decided, would probably have fetched a price enough to feed an entire family for a month! Still, she thought with a sigh, wealth can create beauty – the Gardens were magnificent, and she contented herself with enjoying them for the moment. She wasn't sure why, but an echo of familiarity stirred within her when she was in a certain part of them. She couldn't place it, that was for sure, but it still felt very familiar. 

"Alanna!" she turned, realizing Arune had stopped at a different path some meters back, waving to her. "We go this way!" With a shrug of her shoulders, she put the familiarity down to having passed through the palace seven years before hand. It couldn't have changed _that_ much, after all. She caught up to Arune on a trot, and continued alongside him through the Gardens.

Eventually, the two of them passed through an arch, emerging into a fairly large square of trodden dirt. There were various markings all over it, in chalk and in different coloured dirt. The place seemed to be deserted, piles of equipment lying along the edges of the square, propped up against walls. 

"Here we are," Arune told her once they came to a stop, "This is the practice area."

"It's not as big as the Training Circle. I thought there were supposed to be a lot of, um, Squires and the like?"

Arune nodded. "There are, Falcon. But not many come out here at the one time; they've other lessons too." She gave a slight smile as she realised the stupidity of her own question; she knew all this, or _had_ anyway. She had wanted to be one of these Squires herself, once, after all. 

"So where are they now?" she asked him. 

"Who, the Squires?"  she nodded, "Well, they won't be out here for another hour or so. But the knights we were supposed to meet should have already been here." They both looked around the square, not noticing the presence of anyone. She gave Arune a questioning look. He sighed, "Not like I control them, Falcon."

"Not that it stops you from trying, Master Arune." A voice from behind them spoke laughingly, and the two of them spun about. A tall, heavily set man was standing behind them, a wide grin on his face. Beside him stood another three men. One was whip-like, a smirk on his thin lips. His unruly auburn hair surrounded a face with sharp features. Another was also smiling, shaking his head at his larger friends comment. He looked a little older than the other three, but Alanna knew that might not be from age. His eyes danced, and he gave her a wide smile when she looked at him. 

But it was the fourth one that really captured her attention. Tall with broad enough shoulders, his piercing blue eyes were looking at the larger man with disbelief as he shook his head, coal black hair flying. In short, it was the man who had plagued her dreams for the past two months or so, in the flesh, and standing in front of her. She supposed that she should really be doing something; talking to him, running, fainting – whatever. But all she could do was stand there, rigidly, staring at him. Thoughts flew through her mind – _If he's real, then are the dreams real? Does he know me? Why on earth would I be getting dreams about _this_ man? _– but she couldn't answer them. Her brain just refused to tick over; shock spreading through her system.

She peered at him, her amethyst eyes open in wonder. It was all just too bizarre. Blue eyes turned towards her, a smile spreading across her face. Her knees felt weak; he was even more beautiful than what she had already known. Because he was _real_. 

"Ahh, but it's your for your own benefit, Sir Raoul." Arune responded to the burly man, after what seemed like aeons had passed. "And besides, Shang are much less compliant than you have been. I have been going easy on you.

"Is this her?" the whip-like one broke in, indicating Alanna. 

Arune nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, yes. This is the Shang Falcon." He seemed to be expecting her to say something, but she didn't respond. She was still staring at the black haired man. She wondered if her mouth were open; it would be very embarrassing for it to be. Not that it was any less embarrassing that she was simply staring at the man, she realised too late; blushing as she tore her gaze – with some effort. She wanted to drink the sight of him in! - Towards the men Arune was introducing. "Uh, yes. Well, let me introduce you all, then. These are Sirs Raoul, Alex, Gary. And," he had indicated each in turn, before cutting off as his gaze fell on the blue eyed man. Alanna noticed him – _Him!_ – give Arune a small shake of his head; "And, uh, Sir Jonathan." He finished. She berated herself for acting a fool, and tried to focus her attention away from Blue Eyes. She had mixed success.

The men then each offered her a hand to shake – thankfully they were not treating her as a Lady. She supposed that Arune had told them a little more about her than he had implied. She didn't particularly care at the moment, however; her attention was far too distracted for the current time. She mumbled a curt greeting, shaking each man's hand in turn. Their calloused palms felt familiar, like Shang hands, and she relaxed a little. It did not seem like these were nobles that spent all their time at balls and feasts. She was slightly hesitant in shaking the hand of Blue Eyes – Sir Jonathan, she corrected herself – and it appeared that he noticed. He gave an almost imperceptible wince, but she grabbed his palm and shook it as she had done with the others. It seemed to perk him up a little, her 'roughness' with him, and it made her blush slightly. 

"Are you alright, Alanna?" Arune asked, noticing her blush. 

"What?" she spun around to face him, confused. "Ah, yes! Yes! Why wouldn't I be?" she snapped back, defensively. Blushing even harder as some of the men, Sirs Raoul and Gary, chortled slightly at her antics. 

"A real Wildcat," Sir Alex said, giving her a measuring look. She wasn't sure why, but it made her uneasy – it was far too akin to a leer for her liking. Tossing her black hair over her shoulders, she glared at him.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she challenged. Even Jonathan Blue Eyes laughed at that one.

Alex merely leant back on his heels, "Oh, just that we've heard stories about you. About your temper, for one." Giving her a cocky grin, he added; "And we've heard about your skills, as well. Arune here said you could beat him, which would be impressive. Though I think I could best you." Arune had the dignity to at least look embarrassed for the moment, though he – like Alanna herself – then shot the young Knight an incredulous look. Best a _Shang_?

Sir Raoul groaned, and Gary hit Alex on the back of the head with a laugh. Jonathan Blue Eyes grinned at his friends antics, before he leant towards her. "Alex likes to talk big, puffing himself up before he challenges anyone. Don't pay any attention to him. Although," he added with a frown, "he _is_ very good with a sword. Probably the best in the Palace."

"Really?" she asked, the words coming out in a low husky tone that seemed to sound intrigued. Actually, she had been somewhat breathless by the close proximity of Blue Eyes, and had only then regained the ability to speak. At least it seemed to turn out for the best.

Alex gave her another smug look, "So you accept my challenge?" he asked her. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot with you, socially, by beating you so soon after we've met, you know." that cocky grin was back, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't worry about me," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I can take care of myself." _Watch out for yourself,_ she left unsaid. 

A pleased grin spread across Alex's face. "Excellent!" he told her happily; it seemed he had been looking forward to this. "Are you alright with a sword duel?" 

She gave him a toothy grin, "That's fine." She was actually very pleased with the way this was going – she had been wary of having to drill young squires and pages in boring and monotonous hand to hand drills. Now she'd be able to test her sword skills against the supposed best Swordsman in the Palace – sword skills, she noted with a slight waver of trepidation, that she had not practically utilised in many months. Still, she remembered Liam's words to her on the eve of her Shang testing – _You will have to fight someone better than you sometime in your life. Why not adjust to the idea now? _– and what better way to get back into shape than facing off against 'the best'?

Blue Eyes was a bit of a problem, though, she thought to herself. She should be able to ignore him, to focus on the battle ahead, but…

She shot him a quick glance from the corners of her vision. He was walking alongside Arune, animatedly talking to him, throwing phantom punches into the air. She gave a smile as she realised he was a little loose in his left swing; maybe she'd have to talk to him about that? It would, she noted, at least give her an inroads into talking with him. But did she want to talk to him? This man, who didn't seem to recognise her – beyond what Arune had told him – yet who had taken a staring role in her dreams for the last two months. The dreams, which at one stage were impossibly romantic (and sexual! She even blushed at the _memory_ of what had happened in some of them!), had recently become terrifying nightmares that caused her to awaken in a cold sweat? Did she want to talk to him?

More to the point, she thought to herself, what would she _say?_ She couldn't tell him about the dreams, and she dared not reveal in real life what she had talked to him in dreams about. _Did_ she want to talk to him? It would, she thought sadly, be far easier to just ignore him. Hope he went away, and she could forget him – that he was ever _real._ Never mind that the very idea caused a twinge of pain; it might be easiest for her in the long run. 

Like most things in her life, however, things were never easy. Did she want to talk to him? In the end it mattered not a whisker what she wanted. She was still mulling over whether she would talk to him when he peeled away from Arune and took up stride beside her. His blue eyes looked down at her, and she suddenly found it hard to walk.

"Hi," he whispered to her, giving her a smile. "You're Alanna, right?"

"Yeah!" she croaked back, eagerly. He turned his head to the side a little, hiding a laugh. This aggravated her, she was getting a bit sick of these knights somewhat condescending attitude. "What?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes. 

"Nothing! Nothing," he retorted, holding his hands out in front of himself. She cocked her head, giving him a questioning look; her aggravation was getting the better of her, she knew she should tone it down a little. But it was hard; she'd been under a lot of pressure over the last few days, and seeing Him – Jonathan Blue Eyes – seemed to cause her emotions to well to the surface. All her frustration from the last few months seemed to come to a head. "Well." He sighed, continuing his thought. "I was just wondering whether you're really up to this. This fight with Alex," he clarified. "Arune mentioned that you probably wouldn't have been able to get any real sword training done recently-"

"He did, did he?" she turned, glaring at the man in question. 

"-and are you sure that you're alright from that injury you received the other week?" Blue eyes continued, in a cautious tone. Alanna spun back to face him, her hair flying across his face. 

"How did you know about that?" she demanded; surely Arune wouldn't have told them about _that_ particular incident.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, colouring slightly. "Ahh, I was there." He told her quietly. "I was watching the two of you, watching you, when he struck you." He paused for a moment, walking beside her in silence. "I've actually been wondering about that. I mean, you had him beaten, didn't you? What happened?"

Alanna didn't answer for the moment, processing what he had just told her. He was _there_? So, in a way, it _had_ been her dream man that had put her off? Was that good or bad? At least she hadn't imagined him, but she _had_ acted as if her dream had been real. She decided that it was probably neither good nor bad. "I froze," she told him truthfully. "Something in the crowd distracted me." Shrugging, she added, "Shang are human too, we make mistakes."

"Don't ruin our reputation, Falcon." Arune called out, overhearing. "You may well be fallible, but I am simply perfect in every way."

Alanna rolled her eyes at him, and shared a small smile with Jonathan; the first? "Was he always like this?" he whispered to her with a grin.

She nodded, seriously. Grinning all of a sudden as she remembered a particular story about Arune; "He once refused to train an Initiate because he didn't like the way he dressed."

"Actually," Arune broke in from his place behind them, "It was because he had ignored his cleaning duties for the previous two days. I just thought the clothing justification was funnier."

She laughed softly to herself, shaking her head slightly. She still hadn't answered Jonathan Blue Eyes' question, she realised. "Yes, I'll be ok, Sir Jonathan. Despite what Arune here may say to the contrary."

"Jonathan," the Knight said. "Just Jonathan. This Sir business makes me feel old."

She nodded at him, agreeing to his proposal. They continued to walk in silence for a distance, Gary and Raoul arguing about something up ahead of them. She caught snippets here and there, but nothing that made sense to her; 'like at Drell', 'archers and horsemen' and the like. She had lost her interest in warfare on a larger scale once she had joined the Shang, but at least she knew what they were talking about. She frowned as she realised that she'd lost sight of Alex, who had been just behind Raoul and Gary the last time she looked. Turning to ask Jonathan if he had seen Alex leave, she found him staring at her. His piercing blue eyes examining her, an intensity about them. He coloured slightly when he realised she had seen him staring, and he quickly averted his gaze. She blushed too, though a faint smile spread across her lips. She still didn't know just _who_ he was – whether he was anything like her Fantasy man or not, but she still enjoyed the attention.

"Jonathan," she asked softly after a beat, "did you see where Alex went?"

He frowned slightly, taking a look behind them as he did so. He must have seen something, because he nodded slightly as he turned back. "Yeah, his room is down that way," he pointed to an adjoining corridor a few meters back from where they currently were. "He might have gone to get his own blade."

"And we're here!" came the call from in front of her, and she looked back to see Gary and Raoul pushing open some large doors. She slowly followed them in, peering about her almost in awe. The room itself was very large, but it was the modifications that had been done to it that truly caught her eye. Some of the walls were mirrored, on another hung racks of equipment – more equipment than she had seen even at the Shang village! Some of the floors were covered in light padding, while others' had chalk marks scrawled all over them, for whatever reason. It was truly a room she could envisage large numbers of trainee's within, all brushing up on or practicing their skills.

She exhaled in wonder at the sight. "Wow. This is _amazing_."

"I know," Raoul told her. "That was the same reaction I had when I first entered here. Of course," he added, "Jon and Gary here never really consider it like that. _They_ grew up with it." Jonathan gave Raoul a pained expression, and Alanna frowned. Why would you grow up in a room like this? Or did he mean that they grew up in the palace? She was about to ask the burly knight what he meant when Arune broke in.

"No need to stand about gawking, Falcon." He snidely commented. She shut her mouth with a snap, and glared at him. "Save your energy for the bout, Alanna." He told her. She realised he was probably right, and that she should begin her exercises. As she looked towards the wall with the equipment along it, she noticed the practice swords and padding that was present. She trotted over to them without a word, beginning to run her hands along the swords, picking them up; testing their weight.

"That one might be a bit heavy for you," Gary said from behind her, having walked up beside her. "Might want to try for a lighter one."

"It's fine." She told him, holding out straight in front of her, peering along the edge. "Was there something else you wanted, or were you just looking to insult me?" He gave a start at that, eyes open in shock. She gave a resigned sigh, "Sorry. I just don't like people thinking less of me."

He winced. "No, I should apologise. It's just hard to consider you as a Shang, somewhat. Since, y'know…" he waved his hands at her, lamely.

"Since I'm a woman?" she finished for him.

"Well, yeah." He reluctantly admitted. "Not to mention your height."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Hopefully when I beat your friend you won't have any problems considering me as at least your equal."

"Fine, fine." He put his hands up in front of him, "I'm sorry. I was just saying that it was a shade difficult."

Alanna grunted at him, hefting the sword under her arm for the moment. "Do you have any of those for me to wear?" she motioned to the padded jerkins. 

Gary nodded, "Yeah, we can probably find one that will fit." He moved over to help her pick one out, chewing his lip as he went. "Are you sure you're up to this, ah, Mistress Shang?"

"Call me Alanna," she told him, "And for the last time; yes I am prepared for this."

"It's just that Jonathan told us what happened in the Lower City the other day and-"

"If Jonathan told you that he saw the King of Tortall in the Lower City would you believe him then?" she dryly answered. Gary choked; his face a feature of surprise. She curled her lip in disgust at her own comment, "Yes, I suppose that's not particularly appropriate, is it? I mean, you're all nobles, so I suppose you've all seen the King a few times."

"You could say something like that." Gary told her after a moment, seemingly bemused by something. 

"Anyway," she continued, shrugging off his strange behaviour. "Jonathan saw me once! He never even talked to me; how does that suddenly make him an expert on my condition?"

Gary gave her a small smile, before glancing over at his friend. He leant in close to her, "I think he might be somewhat enamoured with you, Miss Alanna." He whispered. "He came back to the palace raving about this 'Fighting Falcon' he'd seen in the lower city, and then made it a personal quest to find out as much from Master Arune about you as he could."

She blushed, "Really?" Gary nodded, before winking at her_._

He struck a pose, obviously pretending to be Jonathan. "So graceful, she was!" he sighed as loudly as he could, hand on his heart. Alanna noticed Jonathan out of the corner of her eyes, he had suddenly become very pale, and looked to be shaking his head in denial. Gary kept on; "Her skills were sublime! Flawless! Exquisite!" he added in an overwrought tone. She snickered as she noticed Jonathan almost sprinting towards them, eyes wide in alarm. "She flew across the ground like her namesake! She was incredible! So bea-Mmphf!" Gary cut off as Jonathan thrust a hand over his mouth.

"I think that's quite enough, Cousin Gareth." He told the other man, with a nervous chuckle. "Alanna doesn't need to hear anymore of your, uh, awful poetry."

_Poetry?_ Alanna thought with a laugh. That was quite possibly one of the worst excuses she had ever heard. And here she thought Sir Blue Eyes a quick thinker. She giggled out loud at that, noticing Gary attempting to hold back a laugh behind his cousins' hand. Jonathan looked away from her, his tanned skin darkening for a moment. Luckily enough for him, attention was diverted elsewhere as Alex finally made his way into the room. 

"Ah! Finally my challenger is here! I was beginning to worry that you may have backed out, Sir Alex." She said, with a smirk. She was still laughing over Jonathan and Gary's antics. She realised that she hadn't really thought of them as stuck-up nobles once she had learnt a little more about them – perhaps Arune was right.

"Me? Back away from a fight with you? Hardly." He strolled towards her, his gleaming sword resting in the crook of his arm. Standing in front of the padded jerkins, he selected one that was obviously his, before beginning to shimmy his way into it. "Well?" he asked as he worked, "Are we going to do this or not?"

She frowned at him; he seemed a lot more aggravated than he had been before he left. But she ignored it for the moment; she needed to focus. She grabbed the padding she had selected earlier, and began to shimmy into it as well. It was a little constraining on her, which was irritating. It only reached down to the tops of her shins, and was very tight. She commented on this to Gary, who laughingly told her that it was probably because the outfit was intended for pages. 

Still, she managed to squirm her way into it, though a fair amount of dancing about was required. She was probably putting on quite a show, but she didn't care – she was focused now. She went through her exercises, first the stretches, then the hand and fist _katas_, then finally picking up the sword. Shang were versed in all weapons, yes, but unlike their mastery of hand to hand combat, there were others who knew the sword to. The Shang style was supposed to be different from that learnt by noblemen; she'd never actually seen a proper sword drill from a trained knight, so she wasn't sure if that was true or not, but she must be sure not to underestimate Alex because he was not Shang.

He was performing exercises of his own, she noticed. He was smoothly working his sword through various positions, the glittering blade darting about his body effortlessly. It was obvious that he was as good as she had been warned, and that she would have to be at her best to defeat him. Which was, she realised as she caught a glimpse of coal black hair behind Alex, going to be tricky, considering all the _distractions_ about the place.

"So what do you think?" Arune softly asked her, as he moved up beside her. 

"I don't know," she replied. "He's good, definitely."

"He is one of their best."

She nodded softly. "I take it this will be a sword only bout?" she asked Arune, "No jabs or kicks allowed?" She assumed that the answer was no, because Alex had specified swords, but if she was allowed to use the rest of her body, she knew she could beat him. Shang sword styles mixed in various elements – kicks and punches as well as slashes and parries. After all, the old mantra went, what's the point in only using your arms if you're attempting to save your life?

He shrugged. "I would say no. But you would have to ask him about that." He stepped back a moment as she launched into a supple sword _kata_, waiting until she had finished before moving back in again. "Watch your left side." He quietly told her; not in an admonishing way, just a friendly reminder. She nodded, and finished her exercises, breathing a shade more heavily than normal. Her hair was caught in the back of the jerkin, she realised, and reached around to tie it back. 

"Doesn't that get irritating?" Jonathan asked from beside her. She jumped slightly, not having heard him come towards her. "The hair, I mean."

"Uh, yeah. I guess, I don't know; it's annoying in it's way, but I don't think I'd like to cut it."

"Why not?"

Shrugging, she kept her eyes away from him. She couldn't be distracted at this time. "I don't know." She pulled out some more strands, before slipping a small tie around her forehead, keeping the hair off her face. "I guess I like it long."

"It looks nice." He said softly. She did look at him then, turning her face towards his. She tried to keep her eyes expressionless, but she couldn't prevent a small amount of warmth showing from them. He looked into her eyes, too; his own sapphire globes dancing as he gave her a warm smile. She sat there for a while, basking in the moment, before she realised that this was exactly what she shouldn't be doing – not at this time anyway. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from Jonathan's intense eyes, moving away towards the center of the practice room. "Good luck." 


	9. Fights, Poetry and Alcohol Oh my!

**A/N – **So, here we are. Another Chapter done, another 17 or so pages. Urk. Long Chapter…(would you believe me if I said that I had intended it to go on for longer…? No…? Aww…^_^)

Anyway – apologies for the delay in getting it up – Real Life is such a constraint (hehehe).

Appreciate any reviews, as per normal. But hey, who doesn't? Reviews are funnn. I'm particularly fond of this chapter for some reason, so hopefully you'll like it too. Expect the next one up sooner than it took to get this one done.

Salek.

***

Luck.

Huh. Luck was important. One might be forgiven for thinking that a Shang scoffed at luck; that 'one's skill is the only thing dividing victory and death' – but Shang was also realistic. Granted, skill and ability was paramount, but one also has to recognise that any fight can be determined by a single chance event. Luck played its' part, Alanna knew, and so she was thankful for Jonathan's wishes. Especially since she'd not trained with a sword for some time, her rebellious mind reminded her.

She focused; there wasn't anything she could do about that _now,_ anyway. Cursing again at the incredibly uncomfortable padding she was wearing, she stopped before Alex; stonily staring at his cocky smirk. He was getting to her, she could feel it, but she had to ignore it. Rise above it, be calm…_and just thrash him with her blunt practice sword._

"So, Mistress Falcon." Alex asked casually as he tightened the straps of his padded armour. "Are we ready to begin?"

Pursing her lips, Alanna gave the man a slight nod. "Ready when you are," she intoned, flexing her grip on the swords hilt. She stepped into position, exhaling sharply as she prepared herself for the fight to come. With a smooth movement, Alex mimicked her position, bringing his own sword up into contact with hers. They ritually clacked the flat of the blades together, then dipped the tips towards the ground.

Alanna mentally counted to three; expecting an attack on the second beat. She was ready for it if it came, however – she had been taught many of the regular sword patterns used by Tortallan knights, for the simple reason that the Shang respected them. Well, some of them, those who were highly skilled in the art of swordplay. Those, she realised as Alex ducked towards her lithely at the exact moment she had expected, like the one in front of her. 

He brought up from its' previous position, the tip dancing forward and up with almost impossibly fast vertical slash. She casually stepped to the side, bringing her own blade around the knights extended arm. Alex was too skilled for such a simple trick, however, and had already reversed his sword strike, parrying her blade with his own descending blow. The jarring shock that accompanied such defences reverberated up Alanna's arm, but she took no notice of it. She couldn't, if she was to survive countless other such blows in the coming exercise. Dropping the strength from her sword arm for the moment, the blade falling away from her opponent's sword, she danced in towards him, pulling the sword behind her. Obviously confused by the move, Alex stumbled back slightly, his sword swinging in a wide circle in front of him to fend off any potential attack. She leant backwards as he did so, avoiding any possible injury from his flailing blade, and swung the sword in from her right. With a curse at her speed, Alex sucked in his gut and attempted to get out of the way, her sword passing inches away from his belly.

She had to give him credit, he knew when there was no point in attempting to use the sword. She had been told that Knights often failed to recognise that the body still played an important part in sword fights. Indeed, as her Masters had so often pointed out, if they cannot hit your body, then they have no chance of victory. Alex was aware of this, it seemed, which made him all the more of a dangerous opponent. 

They continued to fight, the two of them dancing the forms with a grace that astonished many of the gathered onlookers. Onlookers which had swelled considerably in number. It seemed that a servant had caught sight of Sir Alex fetching his sword; an occurrence which signified a coming fight. Something which was cause to assemble a gallery, or so it appeared. At the moment, however, Alanna was too engrossed in the fight to notice. For long minutes the two of them parried and struck, blades flashing as they sought out weak points in the defences of the opponent; the twisting torso's and dancing feet of the two duelists allowing both to keep relatively unharmed, although Alanna had lain a few blows along Alex's ribs, while she had herself taken a knock to the shoulder. It didn't slow her down, however, although by now she was sweating profusely. A fact, she noted with some dismay during a brief respite from watching for the next blow, which could cause her some problems, especially in this restrictive leather padding.

She intended the bout to be over before it would become a factor, however. 

She ducked a wild swing, flashing her own sword into Alex's side again. The blow lacked any real strength though, and he barely even registered the fact that he'd been hit at all. Instead he leant into the blow, making it somewhat awkward for her to rise from her almost-crouch. He brought down the hilt of his sword, and she rolled to the side. It still just managed to catch her on the side of the head, making her slightly wince in pain. As she rolled to her feet, her head swam, forcing her off balance slightly, and she threw herself to the side in an attempt to ensure Alex wasn't able to capitalize. She shook her head to clear it as she rose again, and she caught sight of Alex moving towards her, presumably annoyed at himself for allowing her to get away from him. He probably wasn't used to an opponent who was quite as athletic as she was. It was now or never, she decided, as she brought her sword up horizontally in front of her.

As she did so, Alex lithely moved to his right. She knew this maneuver, she realised; it had been one that she had been taught the Tortallan's sometimes used. The fact that Alex was slipping back into recognizable patterns meant he was probably tiring, something which she could have taken advantage of if she wasn't quite as tired herself. She noted him taking the first steps of it, and waited till he had obviously committed himself to the move, his right arm swinging around in an oblique arc as he twisted the top of his torso. It was designed, she knew, to catch the opponent in an awkward position, and then to capitalize on that. But she knew how to defeat it, to turn it back against the user, and as soon as she realised Alex wasn't going to be able to stop the swords movement, she acted.

Stepping smoothy to her left, she pulled her head back out of the swords path, swapping her sword over to her left hand as she went. She wasn't quite as proficient with her left as with her right hand, but ambidexterity was promoted under Shang, and she was thankful for it at the moment. As Alex cursed as his sword swept past her, she brought her own down on his blade, before leaning in over it. Her weight, slight as it was, was enough to prevent her opponent retrieving his weapon easily, and she grinned as she realised that she had won. With a twist of her wrist, she jarred the blade loose from Alex's hand, and with a slight application of pressure…

There! The sword dropped from Alex's grasp, and she wasted no time in dragging her own sword up to the Knights throat. She gave him a level look along the blade, the grin showing her white teeth as she allowed herself to relax slightly.

"I yield." He stated, loudly, his voice echoing across the room. Rapturous applause followed suddenly, and with wide eye's she looked around, finally seeing the assembled crowd. "Well fought, Mistress Shang." Alex whispered. She snapped her head back around to him, grin returning as she noticed his smile. She dropped the sword from his neck.

"You too, Sir Alex. I could not have asked for a more worthy opponent. Although" she added, with a slightly abashed look around the room, "I could have done without the audience."

Alex's smile widened. "You'll have to get used to such sights, I'll wager." He told her, "We don't often get warriors as highly skilled as yourself and Master Arune coming to court."

She beamed at the compliment, before frowning slightly over his subsequent words. "Oh, I'm not staying in court." 

"Aren't you?" he gave her a quizzical look. "But where are you staying then? I know you've been here for a few days already, but Master Arune said that you'd probably be staying at the palace."

"I've been here for a few weeks actually," she told him, before shaking her head. "But this isn't the place for this. Is there somewhere I can, uhh, stretch? In private, I mean." Alex nodded, and placing a hand on her arm attempted to steer her towards a door. Arune, Raoul and Gary caught up with them although, as she noted with a small pang of dismay, Jonathan had apparently left. 

"Marvelous!" Gary was telling her, "You were amazing!"

"Brilliant! Certainly showed Alex, maybe now he'll be a little less inflated, eh?" Raoul joked, sharing a laugh with Gary. The two of them looked like overly excited children, wide grins and sparkling eyes. Arune merely caught her eyes and nodded to her, a slight grin creeping onto his face as he noticed her worriedly looking around the assembled crowd.

"Thanks," she told the two knights, quietly. "I'm pretty good with the sword. I hope you never see me at wrestling though."

"I'm sure you could beat Rauol, slow oaf that he is." Alex noted, digging back at the larger man. Gary rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the two of them, before clapping Alanna on the back. 

"I apologise for what I said earlier, Alanna." He said, earnestly. 

She just smiled at him, "Apology accepted, Sir Gareth. Don't worry yourself over it." And neither should she, she realised with a groan, as she had more pressing matters to attend to. Like the press of nobles and servants in front of her, for one. Paling slightly, she indicated the gathering of people in front of her before hesitantly asking  "Are they going to want to talk to me too?"

"Huh? Oh, why of course!" Gary told her, suppressing a smile, "They'll all want to congratulate you and shake your hand. Some of them might even want to invite you to parties, the ladies will want to trade gossip with you, and the servants will want to snatch a keepsake from you." 

She glared at him. "For some reason I now have an overwhelming desire to hit you."

Gary grinned, continuing in a conspiratorial whisper; "Maybe the Lords will ask for a kiss!" 

"That's done it." She said, punching him softly in the side. He exhaled loudly, the 'Oof!' sound making her and the other three men laugh. As she stopped laughing, noting Gary's smiling face; thankfully taking it all in good fun, she realised just how much she liked these guys. They were fun, and they made her laugh. She hoped that the five of them could stay in touch. _Five. _Frowning slightly, she turned to Raoul. "Did Jonathan have to go somewhere?"

The burly man nodded. "He had some business to attend to, he said. He told us to 'convey his apologies', or something." He shrugged, obviously he hadn't been paying much attention. Alanna felt somewhat…disappointed? No, not quite that extreme, she told herself. Sad. Just sad that He hadn't seen her victory. She scrunched her nose up as she realised how that sounded.

"It is somewhat strange." Alex mused. "I mean, first he spends all week raving about her-" she hurriedly looked down, blood rushing to her cheeks. He hadn't _really_ been so fixated on her, had he? "-and then he ducks out before we finish. Must have been important."

"He didn't have anything scheduled for this afternoon, which is why he wanted Master Arune to bring her today." Gary frowned. "It must have been very urgent, too. Maybe I should go find out where he went." Alanna was confused – why would Jonathan have anything _scheduled?_ She guessed that it must have been some noble thing that she couldn't imagine; that she couldn't _remember_, she reminded herself. 

Shrugging it off, she turned her attention to more pressing matters. "How can I avoid all of them?" she whispered, again indicating the gathered crowd.

Arune grasped her shoulder, grinning, "Ahh, the true test of a Shang's abilities. Avoiding nobility." Winking an eye at the four of them, he stepped quickly away – seemingly disappearing among the crowd. 

Alex shook his head. "He hasn't done a particularly good job so far, has he? Not really." He whispered.

Alanna frowned slightly at that, before grunting at the place where Arune had disappeared into "Great. So he's run off, leaving me to face my terrible fate. Thanks, oh wise and powerful Shang Master."

"Come on, Alanna. We're not that bad." Gary said.

"Not you, no." she replied, "It's just that I want to get out of this uncomfortable padding, and I _really_ don't feel like having to be courteous, or whatever."

Roul nodded at her, "I know what you mean." He pursed his lips, "Tell you what, we can go out that door-" he pointed to one behind them, a smaller door that Alanna hadn't really noticed before "-which leads to the quarters, and I'll let you change in my room, alright? Then we can put the padding back later."

She turned to him excitedly. "Oh, thank you Raoul!" she gushed. "That would be perfect. And then I can slip out the front gate, or whatever." She nodded gratefully at him, and the large man began to lead the way. She followed on his heels, and grinned when she heard the cries of disappointment from the crowd behind her. She couldn't quite find it within her to be ashamed, however. All she wanted at the moment was to get out of the padding and back out into the city. Throwing a glance behind her, she noticed Gary and Alex hanging back in the room, talking to some of the nobles and the like. The smile slid off her face; she hoped she'd be able to say goodbye to them before she left. She did like them; well, for all they were nobles, anyway. She bounded forward to besides Raoul, "Are Alex and Gary going to meet up at your rooms?" she asked.

He shrugged, a strange look when he was walking as quickly as he was. She noted with some aggravation that it probably wasn't fast for him; he was just so much taller than she was. "I don't know. Why?"

It was her turn to shrug, "Oh, I just wanted to say goodbye to them. Thank Alex for the match, that kind of thing."

"I'll go back and fetch them before you leave."

"Thanks, Raoul."

***

Raoul had led her for a few moments through the stone hallways of the palace. She was amazed that for such endless stretches of stone, it _all_ seemed to be etched in some fashion. Intricate designs or just simple shapes, not a single section seemed to be roughly hewn. It was incredible. He finally stopped in front of a doorway, one of many in this particular hall, and swung it open. 

"Here you go," he told her. "Just come on out when you're done."

She grinned at him again, thanking him for his kindness, before stepping into the room. Almost as soon as the door closed, she began to strip off the padding. She had worn such protection before, and so she knew what to expect when it got sweaty. Sure enough, the exercise involved a fair amount of her naked flesh showing as the padding stuck to her clothing. It was for this reason that she had not wanted to attempt it in a room filled with dozens of strangers, let alone with just her newfound Knightly friends. As she tried to roll the padding down her legs, she lost her balance and fell on the floor.

"Oof!"

_Most ungainly_. 

Luckily for her it appeared that Raoul had gone to fetch Alex and Gary, as he had said he would, so no-one seemed to catch the rather un-Shang like sounds coming from Sir Raoul's rooms. She giggled to herself as she lay on the floor, enjoying the horizontal nature of it. It was surprisingly comfortable, actually, for a stone floor. She turned her head to the side, and caught sight of a scrunched up scrap of parchment located just under Raoul's bed. She thought for a while, before reaching out and taking hold of it. Raoul seemed to be the strong and silent type, and they all seemed to know about her, so why shouldn't she? Besides, it had probably just fallen down there, so it couldn't have been all that important. With the padding still stuck around her ankles, she uncreased the parchment, before reading the page;

_Lady Yves;_

_I most enjoyed our evening spent together, and I hope we can meet again at some point. I will not pretend to be a man of wisdom or – as my friends would say – sound mind, and I will probably embarrass myself while doing so, but I have written this in memory of you; _

_Your beauty surpasses the most brilliant sunrise,_

_And the most wondrous gems that are your eyes,_

_Hold me captive; they are two sapphires that shine_

_As I pray that they will for the rest of time._

_Your soul is so kind, gentle and warm; beautiful._

_You are, and I cannot be more truthful._

Alanna knew she should probably stop reading, but she couldn't take her eyes away from it. She felt a smile creep onto her face; it wasn't a particularly good poem, but she would have felt nice if it had been sent to her. Not, she noted, because she felt that way about Raoul, but because it simply _was_ truthful. She turned the page over, and almost burst out laughing as she noticed that Raoul had drawn a picture of what – she assumed – was this 'Lady Yves' (And why, she wondered, did that name sound so familiar?). She wasn't sure if it was Lady Yves, she giggled, because it was somewhat hard to get the details from a stick figure. At least it was wearing a dress – that should count for something. 

Placing the paper onto his bed, she set back to the task at hand. Wriggling out of the padding was proving to be more strenuous than she had expected, and her hair was escaping the leather thong, strands beginning to frame her face. As she stood up out of the padding, giving a smug sigh as she did so, she noticed that some of the strands were beginning to lighten somewhat. She groaned, as she realised that she would have to find some way of colouring it again somehow. She didn't mind her original hair colour, far from it, but it made her far too distinctive; something she wasn't particularly fond of. Especially, she noted as she picked up the padding, for what she was currently attempting to do. She knew it would be harder for her if everyone in the city knew she was looking for information about Thom's death, which was why she'd gone through George. With a last glance around the room to make sure she'd not forgotten anything, she settled her rather crumpled shirt and breeches about her body before opening the door. 

Raoul had returned with Alex and Gary, and the three of them seemed to be in some kind of animated argument. Apparently Gary and Raoul were showing Alex where he went wrong in the fight, making mention of the fact that he should have gone left when he went right, and vice versa. Alex seemed to be rather unimpressed with the lecture, but he obviously wasn't one to let his temper control him. Catching sight of her, they hastily cut off whatever maneuver they were discussing.

"Ah, Alanna!" Gary gushed, "Nice to see you again."

"Yes, because who knows what kind of mishaps could have happened in Raoul's room." She had intended it to sound more as a lighthearted jest, but soon realised just how forward it _actually_ came out like. Raoul had apparently caught on, too, as a deep choking sound accompanied his wide-open eyes. "Ah, what I mean to say is that I hadn't been gone very long." She corrected, blushing slightly as Alex and Gary laughed out loud at her. Raoul just continued looked shocked. 

"Well, nice to see that Mistress Falcon isn't quite excellent at everything," Alex remarked after he'd stopped laughing, "Although it's unfortunate Jon couldn't have seen it. "

"Yeah, we'll probably get more 'She's amazing!' commentary tonight." Gary snorted. 

Alanna narrowed her eyes at him. "As ah, embarrassing as that may be," she really didn't want to admit to them that it made her…_warm_ inside, "I _am_ still standing here. Can't belittling me wait until after I've left?" The two of them mumbled their apologies; Gary at least having the dignity to look like he was sorry. Alex just gave her that smirk of his. "Now, do you want to walk me to the gate, or do I have to find my own way down there?" 

The four of them set out, striding through hallways that, to Alanna, all looked the same. She had no idea of where they were going, though she once managed to catch a glimpse out of a window; the sun was fairly low in the sky, and it seemed as if it would be dark soon. A brief look of annoyance flashed across her face – she didn't relish the idea of walking back through Corus after dark. Not that she couldn't defend herself, of course, just that she really didn't want to be bothered if something did happen.

"Anything wrong?" Raoul asked her, and she turned her attention back to the hallway. Alex and Gary were ahead of them, chatting about the latest court lady, it seemed. 

"Huh? Oh, no. Not really. Just didn't think it was quite this late."

Raoul nodded, "I guess it gets darker here a little earlier than it did in Shang."

"I suppose so, though I never really thought about it. You're worked from sunrise to sunset, usually." She shrugged, "Never really had any opportunity to measure the amount of time I'd spent outside. You just know that it's been a long day when you're almost passing out from exhaustion by the time training ends."

"Was it really that hard?" Raoul asked. "I mean, we were allowed days off from training."

She winced. "Lucky. I don't think I left Shang for more than a few weeks in my whole time there."

"How long were you there for?" 

"A shade over seven years."

He shook his head in disbelief, "And you were only out of Shang for a few weeks? In all that time?" he gave an appreciative whistle. "I think I've discovered a newfound love of the training regime we went through." 

She laughed along with him, before a comfortable silence set in. After a while, she turned back to him. "Did Jonathan really say all that stuff about me?" she blushed slightly as he raised an eyebrow at her. "The whole, uh. What Gary was saying."

Raoul gave her a wide smile. "Well, yes and no. He was certainly talking about you a lot, but Gary was probably making it sound a little more overwrought than it was." He chortled, "Though I do remember him saying something about your eyes."

She blushed like the sun at that. _Why_ did he affect her so, she wondered? "Well, that's, uh, interesting."

His eyebrow crept up again. "If I may inquire, Mistress Falcon, why do you care so much about what Sir Jonathan thinks of you?"

"That's none of your business, Sir Raoul." She tried to keep a straight face, but his mocking tone was forcing a smile onto her face. 

"Why so defensive? Could it be that you're harbouring some secret desire for the man?"

The smile on her face somewhat negated the impact her narrowed eyes were having on him. But at least she had something up her sleeve. "I'll trust you not to say anything more on the matter," she threatened, "or I'll be forced to recite your attempts at poetry to _all_ the court ladies."

He paled, "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about." He stuttered.

"_Your beauty surpasses the most brilliant sunrise…_" she softly whispered, her smile turning evil as the mans eyes bugged out of his head. 

"You little…!"

"Now now, don't say anything you may regret." She cackled while waving a finger in his face. "Shoes on the other foot now, isn't it Sir Raoul?" It was his turn to glare at her, before he began to smile too. Her own smile turned kindly then, and she leant across to him. "I thought it was a very good poem," she told him. "Lady Yves will love it."

"Really?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

She nodded. "Though I'd suggest leaving off the drawing of her. It's not particularly flattering." 

"Good advice." He smiled. "Thanks. I'd been wondering whether to send it to her or not, but I think I will now."

"With some flowers?"

He pursed his lips. "I hadn't considered that; another good idea." He laughingly added "The Romantic Shang Falcon, eh?"

She punched his arm. "It's just something women understand." She told him. Which was true, she guessed. She hadn't really had the most feminine of upbringings – and there had been only a half dozen or so other female Shang-in-training, but she just knew some things. That women liked flowers, and that compliments made one feel very warm inside. "Flowers and a sappy poem will do you good with her, if that's your intention."

"It is." He told her. "I like her a lot."

"Love?"

He just shrugged. "I don't know yet. Maybe." He sighed softly, before turning to look at her. "And what about you, Alanna-" she smiled when he said her name; at least Gary and Raoul were doing that now. "-? Any strong Shang man in your life?"

"Shang? No. Not a Shang." She blushed as she remembered Jonathan – and then George. She did like George, after all, but things would never work between them. Of course, that didn't mean she could still look at him, and the Rogue _was_ attractive. "But I don't really have time for romance, I have things to do here."

"Really?" Raoul asked, "What's that?"

She waved the question away. She hadn't intended to reveal that; although, she realised with a start, it might be good to question as many nobles as she could about Thom. This Johnny George knew was a definite one she wanted to talk to, but Raoul, Gary, Alex and Jonathan…Jonathan – Johnny? She frowned, the question slipping out before she could stop it. "Do you know George Cooper?"

Raoul stopped dead in the hallway. She continued forwards a few steps, almost walking into Gary and Alex, who had also stopped. All of them were staring at her, a wary look in their eyes. "Do you?" Gary asked.

"So you do?" she retorted.

Alex looked around quickly, looking somewhat relieved when he realised the four of them were alone. "Yes." He said simply, "We do. The question now is how _you_ know him."

"I'm a friend of his," she said ambiguously. "How do you know him?"

"We're friends of his too." Alex replied, suspiciously.

"This is getting ridiculous," Raoul said. "C'mon." he grabbed her by the arm, and began moving forward again. The other two got the hint, and began moving again. "You do know _what _George is, don't you?" He whispered to her.

"Of course I do."

"So you'll realise that some people here wouldn't exactly approve of any connection we might have with him." Alex pointed out. 

"Ah." She realised, lamely. "Good point."

Raoul looked down a side passage when they passed it, before turning back to the others. "We're almost at the gate by now. Do you want to talk about this later, or we can go somewhere now?"

"Although I've got to be back at the Council in an hour or so." Gary noted.

Alanna nodded. "That's alright. We can talk about it later; its' not that I don't trust you or anything." She smiled, "In fact, if you're friends of George, I probably trust you _more._"

"I swear, that man is a bad influence." Raoul muttered. "First Jon and now this."

"So, should we meet up again tomorrow?" Alex asked. "I've got nothing going." The other two knights nodded, and Alanna smiled. 

"Fine by me."

"We probably shouldn't meet here," Gary mused. "Where are you staying, Alanna?"

"You know the 'Dove?"

"You-!" Raoul cut off a shout. "You're staying _there!?_" He asked a touch more softly. She nodded, and he just shook his head.

"We'll meet you there tomorrow, mid afternoon." Gary continued after a beat. It seemed that he'd been thrown by her lodging as well. "That alright with you?" She nodded again, and they continued on for a moment in silence, before Raoul turned a corner, the gloom of the stone hallways giving over to the last light of day. Orange bathed the open courtyard before her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden light. 

"Well I believe this is goodbye for the moment." She said, giving the three men a smile. "I'll say this, it's been great to meet you all." 

"Of course it has." Alex gave her that smirk again, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, apart from you Alex," she joked. "You were really boring. I had to force myself to talk to you."

"You won't be saying that the next time we fight, because I'm going to beat you." 

She was startled for a moment; she hadn't even considered that he'd want another bout. She supposed it was appropriate, though. Their code of Chivalry wouldn't let him get over the slight to his honour very easily. "We'll see about that," she answered, simply. "Anyway, i'll see you tomorrow, then?" They nodded, and with a few final words and a wave, she was walking out of the gates.

Well, that was certainly easier than I'd expected.

***

She had remembered her earlier conversation with Eleni when her and the Knights had been discussing George in the castle, and so she had taken a round-a-bout route through the city, managing to find her way to Mistress Cooper's residence just as the last light of the sun disappeared over the roofs of the city. She wasn't actually sure what she was going to talk about with the older woman; she had asked to talk to her earlier about the dreams – a way to block them. But now…_now._ Could she tell Eleni about the dreams now that she knew that they had some basis – however tenuous! – in reality?

Of course, they were still just dreams. Amazingly disturbing and realistic dreams, but dreams nonetheless. It would do no good for her to have them ruin her sleep every night as they had done for he last week and a half – she needed to find a way to stop them. Her preferred option would have been to stop the disturbing quality of them, of course, but she had no idea of how to do that. Best to stop dreaming altogether in that case. Which is where Eleni came in, obviously. She knew of herbs, knew of their properties, but she had never heard of a herb that could prevent dreaming. She was just hoping Eleni would.

She knocked on the door, hoping that Eleni hadn't gone to sleep. She had asked the woman to wait for her, but her rather general 'later' could be interpreted in many ways. Thankfully, the woman wasn't asleep, and she opened the door to her. Warmth flooded out, and Alanna almost basked in the sensation. The nights weren't chilly yet, but they were certainly cooling down.

"Ah, Alanna." Eleni said. "I was worried you'd not be coming around."

"Sorry about that," Alanna affected an abashed look. "I was caught up in the Palace."

"Oh, how so?" Eleni asked, stepping inside and motioning for Alanna to follow. She graciously moved into the warm house, a contented smile spreading across her race.

"I dueled with one of the knights." She said simply. "Took a little longer than I had anticipated."

"Ahh, so that's why your clothes are so wrinkled, I presume." 

Alanna laughed at the woman's priorities. "Yes, the padding wasn't particularly clothes-friendly, it seems."

The older woman nodded to herself. "You've got a small cut on you forehead," she said. "I'll get something to put on it."

"No, that's ok-" Alanna tried to protest, but the woman had already moved off to get some supplies. Sighing softly, she made her way over to the dining table. As she lowered herself into the seat, she heard the other woman trudging up some stairs. Stairs, she noted with a wistful thought, that she had descended a few days previously in a _dress._ It had been a beautiful thing, to her. Her memory of it was somewhat tinged, what with what seemed to come about as a result of her wearing it, but she thought that it had looked good on her. She hadn't liked it at the time, of course, but she'd snuck a few looks at it as it hung in her room over the past few days, feeling more and more like she wanted to try it on again. If she didn't know any better, she thought snidely to herself, one might think she was turning into a _girl_.

Of course, the very idea was ridiculous. Alanna laughed softly to herself as she thought of the idea; her dressed in some gown, with her hair – and she remembered to ask Eleni about dying it again – piled onto her head, or something. 

"What are you laughing about, girl?" Eleni had come into the room, carrying a tray loaded with small jars and bowls, without her even noticing. Obviously the art of stealth was strong in the Cooper family.

"Nothing. Just thinking of something funny."

"Hum, well." Eleni said, "Just pull your hair out of the way. Lean back." She continued to give Alanna directions, which she carried out automatically. She felt slight stabs of pain as the herbal poultice Eleni had created was lathered onto her forehead, but it wasn't something she'd never faced before. She forced herself to remain resolute, not to flinch, and Eleni had soon finished. "There we go. I'd have used my Gift on you, but I don't think this really requires that. Besides, from what I know of you Shang types, the Gift is frowned upon."

Alanna thought about that for a moment, before agreeing softly. "Yes. Not looked upon kindly at all. Though we'll gratefully accept it when we're badly injured, of course."

"Ah, alright." With a last flick of a small piece of cloth, Eleni wiped away the last blob of excess poultice. "There we go, all set."

"Thank you." Alanna replied, still somewhat out of it.

"Now," Eleni continued after a moment. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about, earlier?"

Alanna sighed heavily. "Ok, but first I'll just say that I've never been particularly good at expressing myself, so. Uh, just bear that in mind." Eleni nodded, and Alanna continued. "Firstly, I just have to say that I'm sorry for whatever hurt your son has gone through because of me. I know that I should apologise to him, not yourself, and I have done so. And I will again, truth be told. But I just wanted you to know that."

"That's…" Eleni trailed off, looking out the window for a while. "When he first told me about you, a week or so ago, I could tell that you'd captured his heart. No, don't blush dearie, accept that men look at you and like what they see. When he came around the other day, and told me about what had happened after you left here, he-" she shook her head, "I've never really seen him like that. I mean, I'm not blind – I know that he's had other women. But I don't think he'd ever _loved_ someone before, and it just really hurt him. I know that I should have gotten your side of the story, but-"

"No," Alanna cut in. "George is your son. You've got the right to judge those who he associates with before you get to know them." Eleni laughed at that, causing a large smile to come onto Alanna's face. "And I have to say that I do, uh, feel for George. It's just…"

"What?"

"I don't know. Not enough. He can't accept a part of me, a part of what makes me who I am, and so I don't think we'd ever truly work out together."

"That may be so, Alanna," Eleni softly stated, "But you've not even given him – it – a chance. But-" she held up a hand as Alanna opened her mouth, "-It's your life. I can't make you do anything. I just think you'd be good for George, and he for you."

"Maybe," Alanna blushed. "Anyway, there were another two things I wanted to talk to you about. Secondly, uh." She had no idea of how this was going to sound; "I've been having, uh, dreams, lately. Very vivid ones, that look, well, _real._"

"What are they about?" Eleni asked when Alanna was silent for a while.

"Just- See, that's the thing. They've _changed._ They used to be about, uh-" And how on earth was she going to put _this_?! "-well, a man."

"Ah, one of those dreams." Eleni said, with what looked like a lewd smile. Alanna didn't really want to think about that much.

"Well, uh, I guess." She shrugged. "Anyway, they used to be, you know, _nice._ But recently two things have happened. One," she held up a finger, "the situations changed. Where before what happened in the dream were just, uh, the two of us having a picnic, or whatever, it suddenly became that something awful and painful would happen to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, really. Just that what was once something really enjoyable has become something that I…" she trailed off for a moment, before admitting; "Well, _fear_."

"And the other thing?"

"Ah, well." Alanna cleared her throat. "That's even more of a recent occurrence. Like, today recent. You see, it turns out that this man that I've been dreaming about for the past month or so – he's real. I met him today. I don't think he knows me like I know him, but it was _Him_. I know it was. So what I'm wondering now what this whole dream thing is about. Is it supposed to be pointing me to this man? Why have they changed?"

Eleni sat in silence for a moment, contemplating what Alanna had told her. "Well, I don't really have any answers for you, Alanna." She said after a while. "Just follow your feelings, I suppose. I don't pretend to know the plans of the Gods, and it sounds to me like they're touching you somehow."

Of course, that made Alanna remember her meeting with the Goddess – the meeting which was at the same time as the first of the dreams started. She had never really believed the woman when she had said that the dreams were not her doing, but she hadn't really dwelt on the issue very much. After all, they were fun at the time. But why would the Goddess make them so…_painful?_ She didn't know, and she sighed to prove it. "Thank you for listening, anyway. It was nice to get it off my chest. Anyway, I did ask for a reason. These newly painful ones, they're really disturbing my life, and I was wondering whether you knew a herb or something that would block them. Prevent me from dreaming."

"Hmm," Eleni mused. "I might have something, I-" she began rooting through the tray in front of her. "It's, uhm, primarily something to ease the pain, but I heard someone tell me once that it put them to a dreamless sleep for a while. I'm not sure how long it will – Aha! Here we go." She extracted an impossibly plain looking root. It was grey, and dirty, and really not something that Alanna wanted to crush and put in her mouth. But if it would stop the dreams…

"So this could work?" she asked Eleni.

"Could, yes. I won't say that it will, because it might not. It worked for this other person, but it might not for you. Just crush it up and put it into some tea."

"Thank you." Alanna replied. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." Eleni said with a warm smile. "Now, you said there were three things."

"Oh, yes." Alanna tucked the root into her shirt, before looking down at the table. "Yeah, uh. Well, I've been thinking recently that I haven't had the most…" she searched for the right word, waving her hands about. "Educational of childhoods. I was wondering if you'd help me fix that."

"How, exactly."

"I was wondering if you'd help me learn to, uhm. Act like a woman."

"What do you mean?" Eleni asked. "You're not a man, are you? Or a horse? Alanna, you are _already_ a woman."

"Maybe so," Alanna replied, "But you saw me the other day wearing that dress. I had no idea of how to act! How to walk, sit, stand or even act. I just-" she swallowed, "-I just want some people to recognise me as a woman, rather than just as a Shang."

"So, you want me to teach you about what, precisely?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Dresses and stuff." Eleni laughed. "See? That's what I need you to help me with. I don't even know what I should be learning!"

"Ok, child." Eleni told her, "Dresses and 'stuff'. Like your hair? And cosmetics? And jewelry?" Alanna nodded, "Very well. Come around one day and we'll measure you up."

Alanna grinned. "I never really thought that it would be fun, doing that. I always hated the normal 'female' things I was required to do when I was younger. But, I don't know."

"It's different now, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She smiled. 

"It wouldn't have anything at all to do with suddenly meeting, well, the man of your dreams?"

Blushing, Alanna affected a shocked look. "Of course not! I had been wondering about this for days!" Eleni gave her a skeptical look. "Well, ok. A little bit. Actually," she added, remembering something  "that reminds me of another thing. Do you know any place where I can darken my hair?"

Eleni gave a slow smile. "I thought you had coloured it, yes. What colour is it naturally?"

"Red."

"Really? What a distinctive look you would have had, with the eyes as well."

"Exactly." Alanna replied, "That's why I colour it. Besides, I like it black. I've gotten used to it."

"Hmm, I do know a place, yes. We could go there when you come over later."

"That would be perfect," she said. "Could we get together in two days or so, or is that not good for you?"

"No, no." Eleni replied. "That sounds fine. Now are you rushing off again, or do you have time to share a pot of tea with me?" 

She really should be getting back to the Dove, she thought to herself. But she couldn't refuse the older woman. Picking up her cup, she sighed dramatically. "Oh, I suppose I could bear it."

***

It was very dark by now, and she wasn't enjoying the walk back to the Dove. Eleni had given her some fairly detailed directions, but it was a bit hard to keep an eye out for 'Old man Branson's red house' when at times you couldn't see more than five feet in front of you. There were also an increasing number of people keeping an eye on her. She was aching a little from her bout with Alex earlier in the day, she certainly didn't want to have to flex those muscles again if she didn't have to. 

Hopefully she'd be able to recognise one of them, or they her. She'd been seen with George a few times, after all, so perhaps they'd consider her off limits. Belonging to the Rogue, or something, though she wasn't sure how she felt about _that_.

Luckily enough, it seemed that looking was all they were going to do, as she eventually made her way back to the Dancing Dove with no problems, bar a stubbed toe from walking into wall a while back. Thankfully, the dark worked for her as well. She cracked open the door, noting that it obviously wasn't all that late, as the inn was still as crowded as it would have been around dinner time. The smell of food was strong in the air, and her mouth watered. She'd had some biscuits and the like at Eleni's, but she needed some proper food in her.

"'Lanna!" turning at the voice, she saw Riven motioning to her from a table. "'Ere!" She smiled, and made her way over to her friend. The table was strangely empty, only two other men sat around it, playing cards with the youth. Pulling a chair across, she sat down at the table, motioning to Nelly as she did so. "What are y'doing?"

"I want some food." She told him offhand. 

"Oh." He watched her for a moment, waving her arms around frantically. "You'll never get anything like that." He told her.

"Well, what do you suggest then?" 

He gave her a wink, before he reached under the table. She frowned – what could he have under there? – her mouth dropping open as Riven brought his hand back out, clutching Olly by the shirt. 

"'Ello Alanna." The boy gushed. 

"What-?"

"Aw, dun worry 'Lanna." Riven said "'E was just, ahh…" he blushed as he jerked his head at the other men sitting around the table. "Y'know, giving me an 'elping 'and."

"Helping you cheat, you mean." 

"I prefer t'think of it as an unbalanced advan'age." He grinned, before turning to the younger boy. "Now, Olly, go tell Nelly that Alanna wants something t'eat, right?"

"Right, Riven." And the boy scampered off, dodging under the bodies of the other occupants of the room. 

Alanna laughed. "Unbalanced advantage; you're just like George."

"Who's just like George?" she turned, spotting the Rogue himself coming up towards them. She studied him intently for a short moment as he did so; he was smiling, which was always a good sign, but his eyes were still somewhat haunted, she thought. Maybe it was just here, though. "You can't be talking about Riven 'ere, because 'e gets caught all the time. And I _never_ get caught."

"Come on, George." The youth whined, "It was only once!"

"Once is all it takes, lad." George said solemnly, before sitting himself besides Alanna. "Now, why dun you go and 'elp Olly get some food."

"'Ey? But Olly's fine to-." Riven cut off, looking at the two of them – in particular George's glare, and stood up. "Oh. Yes, I'll go do that."

Once he'd disappeared into the crush, Alanna turned to her friend, giving him a warm smile. "You look good, George."

"Then I'm a very good actor." He hoarsely whispered. The smile slipped off her face, and she put her hand on his. He took it in his hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Look, lass. I can't say that I agree with what you said, not all o' it. But I'll accept it, if that's 'ow you feel."

She nodded softly, "Thank you."

"I want y'to know something, though." He whispered, turning to her. "That I'll still love you. If you ever-"

"I know, George." She told him, "I know."

He nodded, before quickly pressing his lips to hers. She let him do it; she probably shouldn't, but it did feel nice. She wasn't strong enough to refuse him this, anyway. His eyes were bright as he pulled away from her, and he let go of her hand with a sigh, moving a little further away from her and looking down at the table. "Johnny came around this afternoon," he told her. "'E waited 'ere for a while, before 'e 'ad to leave. Said that 'e was waiting for you." She couldn't help a small smile come onto her face at the mention of 'Johnny', before realizing just how awkward the situation really was. George loved her, and she did care for him. She also cared a lot, she thought, for this Jonathan, who was _also_ good friends with George. That dulled her smile, which was probably quite fortuitous, as George turned towards her. "'E said that 'e'd probably come around tomorrow morning, though. I know you've been meaning to catch up with 'im."

"Thanks George, I'll look forward to that." And she would, though not just for the potential to talk to 'Johnny' about Thom. Suddenly angry at herself, she forced the _pleasant_ thought down; she was sitting in front of a man whose heart she had badly bruised today (if not broken!) and she was thinking of spending the morning with another! "Any news that I should know about?"

He pursed his lips. "Aye, maybe. I thought y'should know that I sent off 'Fingers and Bors to Trebond this morning." She smiled at that, it would be good to find out what had been going on there. "There's also talk o' a new Guild on the streets, though I wouldn't want to drag y'into it."

"New Guild, what do you mean?"

George shrugged. "I dun know. Marek said he caught wind o' some men talking about pulling a job or two on the Palace; a job 'for 'im' or something, which dun make too much sense. I guess we'd better keep our ears open."

"If you need any help or anything…?"

"Aye, thanks lass, but we should be alright." A small smile spread across his lips, the first she'd seen him wear tonight, and he rose as he noticed something over her shoulder. Turning, she noticed Riven and Olly coming towards them with a large tray held between them. "Well, that'll be my cue to go, I think. I'll see y'in the morning, lass?" he asked.

"Sure. And George, thank you. Again. For everything."

He just nodded silently and moved off, presumably to talk things over with some of his lieutenants. She watched him for a moment, as he set his shoulder's before walking into the mass of people. Obviously he had a lot on his mind, a lot of which, she thought to herself, she had put there. She had to find a way to soothe her friends mind. 

"'Ere we go! Straight from Cook." Riven and Olly plonked the tray down in front of her, and she didn't have much problem diverting her attention to it. Ripping into a bread roll with her hands, she began to stuff her face with the food. Riven looked on distastefully. "And you accuse Arune o' eating like a dog."

"Hey," she pouted as she swallowed some meat, "I'm hungry! I've been busy all day. Besides, he does eat like a dog."

"Ah yes, how did the trip to the palace turn out?" Riven grinned, "Get to practice your manners?"

"Actually, no." she gave him a haughty look, "I didn't in the end. I just met some nice knights-" she thought that sounded strange, but didn't particularly care, "and fought a duel, that's all."

"A duel, eh? Can't go past a challenge?"

"I _can_. I just didn't want to at this particular time."

"Ah, o' course, 'ow silly of me. Did you win, at least?"

"Yup." She took another bite of the meat, "Fisisrllgut"

"'Ey?"

She swallowed, "This is really good."

"Oh, right. Well, that's me ma for you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So this duel, d'ya use swords, or what?"

She nodded, "Yeah, practice swords. Very dull."

"I guess you'd think so, Mighty Miss Shang, but not all o' us go around 'aving adventures every week. A duel is very exciting for us common folk."

"I meant the edge of the blade, idiot. It's blunt."

"Oh." He blushed, "Ignore what I just said then."

"Don't I always?" she retorted, with a saccharine smile.

"Very funny. Look at me laughing."

She grinned; bantering with Riven was always a lot of fun. "I'm just going to get a drink, you going to be here when I get back?"

"Where else would I be?" he replied, spreading his arms wide.

She thought about that for a moment; "As a matter of fact, do you actually _ever_ leave this place?"

He just shrugged. "Not recently. Ma's been coming down 'eavily on me; mainly for a certain, ahh, mistake o' mine." And he winked at her. She shook her head in disbelief, and set off to the kitchen. She might have a word with Nelly, actually. It wasn't good for the boy to be cooped up in here all the time. Especially, she realised, when the sorts of people who came through here were the type that Nelly obviously didn't want Riven turning into. Still, that could probably wait till later. She reached the door to the kitchen, and motioned to one of the aides there that she wanted a drink. The girl, Alanna vaguely remembered her, though not her name, nodded and filled a mug for her. 

"Thanks." She offered as the girl passed the mug to her. Alanna fished a coin out and gave it to the girl, who smiled and tucked the coin away. Taking a long draught of the liquid, she realised that it was a little bit stronger than she'd anticipated, the liquid burning down her throat. Spluttering, she decided that she'd firstly have to take small sips, and secondly _certainly_ refrain from ordering another. She could almost already feel it going to her head. Admittedly the feeling wasn't bad, it was quite nice, a warming numbness, but she'd been taught to always be on her guard. And being somewhat tipsy might make that a little harder than she'd like. Still, she'd only had a little of it so far, and she would make damn sure that she wasn't going to have any more of it. Though it did taste quite nice, maybe…? No. One mug, that's all.

***

Three mugs later, and Alanna was _quite_ drunk. She'd never really drunk a lot of liquor before, and now she realised why that was, probably. Her size meant that she could probably get drunk on a few thimblefuls of ale. Something that, for some odd reason, currently struck her as being incredibly funny.

"And then, for some reason," she slurred to Riven, who was matching every one of her mugs with two of his own, "I ran down to the well, pulled up the bucket, and poured the water down my breeches!"

"Why?" he asked, laughing his head off.

"To get rid of the mice, of course!" she laughed too, leaning back as she did so. "It's not like it was my fault!" she continued, leaning back too far and falling off her chair. This seemed to make her laugh even harder for some reason, and her body refused to move. "Help!" she gasped, still laughing, "I can't get up!"

"Ah, Mistress Shang is 'uman then, eh?" Riven laughed, before he sidled around to her side of the table and pulled her up. She tried to stop laughing, tried to regain her dignity. At the moment that involved sitting up very straight and adjusting her clothes. She'd seen noble Ladies do that in the past, so it must be a _dignified_ thing to do. "'Ow the mighty have _fallen._"

Alanna tried to keep a straight face, before erupting into laughter once more. "That was awful!" she giggled.

"I know, but you laughed at it!"

"So?"

"So that makes _you_ awful!" Riven laughed, pointing his finger at her. 

"I am not!" She said, an outraged look on her face. "I'm just laughing at you!", and she punched his shoulder.

Riven rubbed his arm, "Ow! You punch 'ard, 'Lanna. Now I need a drink." He took another gulp of his drink, and she followed suit. "So, any other embarrassing stories to share? I've said all mine so far."

Alanna put a finger to her lips, rocking her brain. "Uhm, there's these dreams or something that I've been having; they're pretty funny."

"Dreams are boring."

"No, not these ones!" she whispered to him, "These are special dreams! They come true!"

"'Ey?"

She put on a smug look, "Told you they were interesting."

"What 'appens?" he asked. "In t'dreams I mean."

"Well, there's this man in them. A very, very handsome man." 

"Ah," It was Riven who leant back in his chair this time, putting his hands behind his head, "It's one of _those_ dreams."

She blushed, "Sort of. They're very romantic and stuff."

"Whose this guy?"

"Well see that's the thing, I thought he was just a dream, but I met him recently." She thought hard for a moment, "I don't know if he has had dreams too, but I don't think he has." She noticed Riven giving her a smug smile, "What?"

"I was wondering 'ow long it would take you to come around." He said, "Couldn't resist my charms, eh?"

"Huh?"

"It's alright Alanna, I know you love me."

Alanna just burst out laughing. After a moment, Riven joined her; two youths drunkenly laughing in the small hours of the morning. She noticed someone out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to face them. Her head lurched for a bit, but she fought down the sickness; "George! Hey, it's George!" She reached her arm out at him.

Riven joined in. "George!"

"George!" He looked at them, saw the two of them, saw the mugs lying around, and shook his head. He moved over to the two of them. "George!" she reached her other arm out now, and he took her hands into his own. 

"Alright, what 'ave you two been up to?" he said softly, rubbing circles on her hands with his thumbs.

"Nothing!" Riven exclaimed, "We ain't been doing anything, 'ave we 'Lanna?"

"Nope!" she affirmed, grinning up at George.

"Aye? And so why all the mugs?"

Alanna put on a very serious expression, "I've developed a sudden interest in pottery." She told him. Riven snorted in laughter, and her own lip trembled with the effort of not laughing.

George just rolled his eyes. Alanna thought she heard him mutter something about the Crooked God and 'Why me?'. "Alright, Lass." He said, pulling her softly to her feet. "You're going to bed, now."

"No!" she pouted, "I want to stay here!"

"Yeah, George!" Riven added, "Let her stay here with me. She loves me! She said so herself!"

"No I didn't!" she exclaimed, shocked. "You said that! I don't love you!"

"Aye? Anyway, come on lass, we're going." George began to help her walk across the room, an arm around her waist keeping her steady. Alanna felt nice here, she leant against his shoulder and began to doze off. "No, lass. Not yet. We've still got t'get you up the stairs. Come on."

"Mm? Oh yes. Stairs." She nodded, seriously. "I can do stairs."

"I 'ope so, or else you'll have t'stay down 'ere with Lover-boy."

"I don't love him!" she stated again, "I don't!"

"Aye, I believe you lass. Watch your step there."

She smiled. "You take good care of me." She put her head on his shoulder again. 

George sighed, again she caught a 'why me?' "Aye, that's right. And I'll keep taking good care of you. But you've got t'work with me 'ere, lass."

"Ok." She concentrated very hard, and with George's able support, was able to make it up the stairs without injuring herself. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she almost fell into George's grip. He just managed to catch her, slinging her between his legs as she fell. Without his arms around her, her back would fall to the ground. She burst into giggles, and simply lay there.

"Lass, c'mon. Stand up."

"Why? It's so comfortable here." And she relaxed even further. George just looked at her for a moment, before he softly put her down onto the ground. She gave a contented sigh, before smiling up at him. "See? Very nice."

"Aye?" he asked, shaking his head as he leant down towards her again. "Wouldn't it be better in y'bed?"

She furrowed her brow. "Good point, George." She reached her arms up, and he grabbed them, pulling her to her feet. Her momentum carried her into his arms, and she snuggled into him. "Mmm, comfortable here too."

"Alanna."

"Hmm?" she asked, innocently. With a sigh, George scooped her into his arms, and made his way towards her room. "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome, Lady Shang." He whispered to her, "Though I dun think you'll be thanking anyone in t'morning." 

"Oh, I'll be alright." George just grunted, prodding open her door with his foot. He managed to get it open, and with a bit of contortion was able to get the two of them into the room too. He made his way over to her bed, and lay her down on it. "Mm, you were right. Much more comfortable here."

"Aye." He whispered to her. His face hovered close to hers, and she smiled. She looked at him intently for a while, before he grinned back at her. "What?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing, really. Just that you're very handsome."

"Nice of you t'say so."

"I don't love him, you know."

"Who, Riven?" She nodded, and he chuckled softly. "I never thought y'did, lass."

"Good, I didn't want anyone to be confused." She yawned, closing her weary eyes. "I love you, though." She said, sleepily. "I do. But I don't know what I feel for him yet."

George was silent for a while, stroking her hair softly. "Him? Who's him?" he asked.

"Him is him." She mumbled, nonsensically, before yawning again. "I've had a long day."

"That y'have, Alanna."

"G'night George." She whispered, falling asleep. 

"G'night, m'love." He whispered back, though she never heard it. 

***

Neither would she know that George had spent the next hour or so watching her, before ghosting a kiss onto her and leaving her room. 

***

Unfortunately, her drunkenness also had another unforeseen consequence; her forgetting about the root Eleni had given her. As Alanna drifted in a fugue, the dreams came to her again.

_"No!" She shouted, seeing Him sitting on a large throne. He was utterly pale, gaunt, and sunken into the back of the chair. He was gripping the arms as if they were his only lifeline. But it was not his appearance that shocked her, though it certainly did affect her somewhat, but it was more the dark shadow beside him that caused her to cry out. The shadow loomed over the top of the chair, tendrils whipping out to attach themselves to Him, pulsing with energy as they seemed to drain it away from Him – from Jonathan. "Get away from him!"_

_She struck out at the shadows, for all it was worth. Her fury doubled as her fists simply passed through the shadows, not altering anything. She screamed in rage, throwing herself into the shadow, hoping to barrel it to the ground. Anything to get it away from Jonathan! _

_A voice – she couldn't locate the source of it – whispered in her ear. "You'll never defeat it like that…"_

With a gasp she awoke. That last voice – Thom?


	10. Revelations

A/N – I just thought I'd start this chapter off with a little self-aggrandisement. Erm…y'know…talking myself up ^_^

As (I think?) I mentioned in a previous chapter, I recently bought the _Song of the Lioness_ series, reading it through for the first time in a *long* while. And I just realised how easily the stuff I've already written fits into it, to be honest (minus one or two problems, of course, that people have already thankfully pointed out to me.) 

For example, there's indeed a Shang Falcon already mentioned in the books…but he's a young lad, and by inserting a single line in to my story I can easily get around it (In chapter 3 I mentioned that Alanna killed a fellow Shang Initiate during training; hey presto – that 'dead initiate' is now known as Joesh, the man who in _SotL_ became the Shang Falcon!). There's also reference to the fact that a Shang Warrior, in particular the Shang Wolf, came to Corus soon after Alanna had left after her Ordeal. In my story, the Shang Wolf, Arune, comes to Corus roughly the same time! (Technically a few months beforehand – Alanna's about 17 and ten months in this story.)

I know, I know – not particularly awe inspiring, but it's really neat when you realise that what you thought was probably so totally against what was written in the books actually lines up quite well…! ^.^

**Anyway**, two more things to mention. Firstly; I want to ask a favour of anyone out there willing to help. I need a new summary of this thing, since the previous one is so pathetic! Any ideas? (Incidentally, I'm a little worried about how this looks to other people. I'm thinking of perhaps asking for a beta-reader or something. Anyone want to volunteer? Or is it ok?). Secondly; hope everyone likes it, as per usual! Reviews are, of course, welcome!

***

Thom.

Was it really him? It was difficult to tell – it was a mans' voice, after all. She'd never spoken to him since their parting over seven years ago, so…?

No. It _was_ him. She could just feel it. Fingering her pendant, pulling at the amethyst held within the brazen claws, she tried to think. Her brother's voice in her dreams; dreams which, she realised with sudden clarity, had recently been shown to be somewhat realistic, if not downright _prophetic_. Did this mean that Thom was alive? Dared she hope it?

She shivered, lying back down on her mattress. It was a hot night, a very hot night, and she was sweating. She felt the first stirring's of a splitting headache in the back of her head, too; a sure sign of the previous nights activities. For the moment, however, she did not care one whit about either. She had to _think_, and think hard. 

"Was it him?" she whispered to herself. "How could it be?"

"Who?" asked a woman's voice from beside her, and Alanna almost jumped out of the bed covers.

"Great Mithros!" she exclaimed in shock, almost loud enough to be a shout. She turned her head to look towards the voice, wincing as her head throbbed with the effort, and barely managed to make out a white-clad form sitting beside her bed. It was very dark in the room, the white of the woman's clothes being the only feature she could make out.

"Close," the female voice answered, "but I consider myself to be somewhat less concerned with balance."

Squinting in the darkness, Alanna was able to make out who it was. It was _her_, the woman she'd met in Shang all those months ago – the Goddess, or so she claimed. "Oh," she whispered harshly. She was quite annoyed with this woman, "It's you again. How lovely."

"Don't be snide, Alanna." Alanna grumbled her displeasure. "Honestly, girl, I would have thought you'd grown up by now." The woman rose from her chair, looming over the prone Shang. The Goddess crossed her arms underneath her breasts, and put on a reproachful look. "I thought you might have gained some manners after you came here; obviously I was mistaken."

"Huh?" Maybe it was just the late hour and the effects of the previous nights drinking, but Alanna was thoroughly confused. "Why would coming here grant me more manners?"

The other woman sighed heavily, "Because you should have gone to the palace, and had at least a small amount of decorum instilled in you. Or I thought you would travel there, anyway."

Alanna groaned. "Not this 'Your true destiny' hogwash again, because I still don't believe you about that."

"Believe what you will, Noble Shang." The woman's tone chilled, and she moved over to the end of Alanna's bed, sitting herself near its occupant's feet. "Whatever delusion you create to comfort yourself with does not concern me." 

Alanna gaped; "I…!"

"What _does _concern me," the woman continued, running over Alanna's furious objection, "Is how you're faring in what you set out here to do."

She opened her mouth to fire off a scathing retort, her still somewhat put off by the woman's own heated manner – _Even if she is the Goddess, it cares to be courteous. _A sudden thought struck her, and Alanna almost grimaced as she realised the woman was probably giving a fairly accurate imitation of her _own_ behaviour. She could at least try and be helpful, she supposed. Not that she'd go out of her way, or anything…"What do you want to know?"

The woman, regal as she was, shrugged. "Do you know anything that will help me?"

Alanna sighed. "Not really. From what George told me it seems that whatever Thom was doing before his-" she swallowed, "-before his death attracted the wrong kinds of attention. I'd also guess that it was a noble who played a part in matters. But that's just a gut feeling, really." She added, sighing.

The woman nodded softly. "A noble, yes that would be appropriate. Though why would they be paying such close attention to your brother?" Alanna didn't know, so she didn't bother answering. The woman continued looking straight ahead, "Best you find that out, Alanna. It could give us more details on Her activities."

"Give _you_." Alanna corrected, "I don't care a whit about the Queen of Chaos, or whoever you're talking about."

"You should, girl, it affects everyone." 

Alanna rolled her eyes. "I don't care." She repeated, narrowing her eyes. "I don't even fully trust what you're saying, anyway."

"Why?" the woman retorted; "When have I ever given you a reason to doubt what I say? Or is this just you being incredibly obstinate."

"I don't know," Alanna sighed. She was suddenly just so very tired, wanting nothing more than to just rest her aching head again. "I just- Why me? Why are you doing this with me? I didn't ask for this; I just wanted to come and find out what happened to my brother, and hopefully find _something_ that makes my life worth living."

"What do you mean?" The Goddess asked, a sympathetic tone in her voice. "Just tell me, Alanna. I can help you."

"Can you?" Alanna whispered. "I'm just so tired of being who I am – all of it. You want to help me? Just tell me why no-one seems able to accept me for who I am. Tell me why I seem to have to hide all the time, hide parts of myself. My nobility, my past, all of it."

"Your Gift." The woman added. 

"Not that I particularly care about _that._" She replied, scrunching up her face in disgust. "But yes, perhaps even so. Though I'd be happiest if it would just disappear."

"Why?" 

"Because I don't need it!" Alanna cried, "And it's yet another thing which people will hold against me."

"How can you expect people to accept the entirety of who you are when even you yourself do not?" The Goddess quietly queried after a moment. "It would appear that you're punishing those who care for you for their inability to do what even you cannot." She sighed, before pointing a finger at Alanna, "_You_ don't even meet your standards, Alanna. How do you expect anyone else to be able to?"

"I-" Alanna gaped; was the woman right? Was she being too hard on those that cared for her? "No! That makes no sense!" It did, but Alanna didn't want to admit it. Not to this woman.. "Anyway, what are you talking about this for? I thought you wanted to catch this proxy, or whoever it is you're focused on."

The woman just gave a heavy sigh, "I do worry about you, Alanna. As I said the last time we met, you should have been my chosen; that enamours you to me, at least."

"I don't want to be your chosen, nor do I want to be," she grimaced, "so '_enamoured'_ to you. I've told you what I know, so why don't you just leave now. Let me continue with what I was doing. Let me just do what _I _wanted to do." She was getting very frustrated with the woman now, and her headache was flaring up again. "Just leave me be. Please?" the last was a whisper.

"Very well," the Goddess answered, "But remember what I have asked of you. Finding Her pawn is important to all of us – however you may feel about helping me, just remember that you're helping everyone." She gave a sad smile, "And isn't that what you wanted to do when you were younger? Be a true hero? Alanna, find your Brother's killer, and you _will_ be a hero." And with that, she disappeared in a haze of silver sparks.

Quirking her lips, Alanna toyed with her pendant. "Funny, I can't think of anything worse at the moment." She mumbled. "I'm doing this for you and me, Thom. That's it." She added in a whisper. Looking down at the pendant, she realised that she was still dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before, and forced herself out of bed to change them. Sliding her breeches and shirt off and putting on her sleep shirt, she wondered why exactly the Goddess had come to her in the first place. Surely it couldn't be simply because of who she was _supposed_ to have been. Why was the Goddess taking such an interest in her? She tried to continue on this train of though before her headache made thinking difficult, and she slipped into a restless sleep.

***

"'Lanna? 'Lanna? Wake up, 'Lanna."

She awoke some time later, surprisingly late it appeared. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, splashing across her bed and illuminating George's face above her. She frowned slightly, why hadn't she woken up earlier? She'd kept Shang hours for the past seven years – she had woken slightly before dawn every morning for the past few years. Was she really _that_ out of it?

"You awake now, lass?" George asked her after he noticed her stirring. 

She groaned as she attempted to push herself up; her head was _swimming_. "George," she moaned, "never let me drink again."

He chuckled in response. "Aye lass. But I could o' told you t'lay off what you were drinkin' yesterday. You two'd got through a lot 'fore I noticed you." He grinned at that, and she shot him a glare from under her unruly hair. After a moment, the grin slid off his face, and he swallowed thickly. "You wouldn't, ar…" he scratched his head, "What I mean is, you dun remember much o' what 'appened last night, do you lass?"

She groaned again as she swung out of her bed. Her sleep shirt had ridden up, exposing a fairly large amount of leg. George blushed and turned quickly around. "I don't know, George." She replied, not really noticing what she'd done. "Well, I remember you helping me here, but nothing much after that. Though-" she cut off; she had been about to mention her talk with the Goddess last night. Might be best to gloss over that – "No. Just fell asleep, I take it?" 

George shrugged awkwardly; back still to her. "'Ow would I know, lass?" he replied.

She groggily rose to her feet, frowning as she saw him. "What are you-" she yawned, "What are you doing, George?" she asked as she fumbled for her breeches. She'd have liked a bath, but it seemed she'd overslept. She might have to just take a quick dip in after she'd had something to eat. Missing a training exercise for one day could hurt, certainly, but she'd risk it.

"What? Ar, nothin'." George replied, "Just, arr, wanted t'give you some privacy."

"Oh, right. Thanks." Alanna said stupidly while pulling on her breeches. _Of course that's what he was doing._ She glanced back at him, making sure his back was turned, before quickly pulling her shirt over her head and replacing it with a clean one. Running a hand through her hair afterwards, thankful that her headache seemed to be clearing somewhat, she turned back to him. "You can turn around now."

"Aye." The rogue turned, a strange look coming over his face. Alanna would have termed it – wistful? "You look beautiful, lass."

"I just woke up George," she replied, hotly. A blush was creeping over her face. "I hardly think-"

"You do."

"Oh." She was suddenly very uncomfortable; hadn't George made it clear that he understood what she had said? _He also made it clear that he'd keep trying;_ a rebellious part of her mind put in. "Thanks." He nodded. "Thanks for waking me up, also." She added after a while, "I might have slept through the day at this rate, and I have things to do."

"Aye?" George asked, in a querying tone. "That's not t'only reason I woke you, though. There's someone I'd like you t'meet downstairs."

She frowned, "Who?"

He smiled. "My noble friend I've been tellin' you 'bout. Johnny."

"Oh." She stammered, butterflies the size of dogs running through her stomach. He was _here_? This morning? When she- she glanced in the mirror –well, she didn't look that bad, to be honest. Not for someone who'd just woken up after a night of heavy drinking, anyway; despite what George had said she didn't look particularly _beautiful_, she didn't think. "Well then." Why _was_ he here? "Goody."

"You dun sound too keen, lass. Sure you're alright?" George asked, concerned. 

She waved him away, "Yeah, I'm fine. Well, fine for someone who drank as much as I did last night, anyway."

"It wasn't all that much," George chuckled. "I dun think I'd even be tipsy on that much. O' course, I'm a tad bigger than you."

"Fine," she glared, "Make fun of me! When I've just woken up! See if I care!" she threw her hands into the air; "Now get out! I still have things to do, and I'll meet you downstairs." George looked like he wanted to apologise, or something, but she hurried him out. "Go!" She really should have a bath, shouldn't she? She didn't want to smell, after all. Maybe just a quick one? She bit her lip – no time. It would take many minutes just to get enough water on hand, let alone if she wanted a hot bath! She could get by with a cold one, but again there wasn't enough time. She glanced in the mirror again, her hair wasn't too mussed up, which was a lucky break, but she should still run a comb through it.

She looked down, and saw her old breeches and tunic. "By the Goddess," she moaned. "What am I going to _wear?_" She toyed with the idea of pulling on the dress in her closet for a moment, but dismissed the idea. She didn't want him to think that she thought that he was something special. She frowned as she ran that last thought through her mind again. "Did that even make any sense?" Shaking her head, she grabbed her leather shoes and slid them on – no time for hose and boots, these would have to do. Running the comb through her hair, she thought back to him again. What _was_ he doing here? When he hadn't even stopped to watch the end of her fight with Alex yesterday? George had said that Johnny had come to the Dove the night before, she remembered, so perhaps he was just trying to catch up to her again. Sighing, she realised she had no time to change her clothes now – she'd just have to go as she was.

Grimacing slightly as she noticed the bags under her eyes, and then grimacing again as she realised how self-conscious she was being, she opened the door and went down to meet this 'Johnny'.

***

He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, with George on his side. The two of them were casually chatting, but she didn't really notice. Thankfully, neither did they notice her; it would have been highly embarrassing had they done so, as she was peering around the corner staring at him. He was almost _painfully_ handsome, she thought to herself. His coal black hair being a little more unruly than it had been yesterday, presumably as a part of his 'Johnny' disguise. His piercing eyes, however, were as exquisite as they were yesterday, and she could see them dancing with mirth at whatever he was discussing with George. It certainly looked as if they were good friends, they both seemed remarkably at ease with each other. Something, she noted, that George rarely seemed to be, even when he was holding court at the Dove. Alanna quirked a lip at that – why was George more at ease with 'Johnny' than he was with than the other thieves? He'd told her the other day that he didn't particularly like nobles, why was he so chummy with this one?

She was brought out of her thoughts as she noticed one of the serving girls sidling up to the two men. She gave George a wide grin, and then stood – Alanna thought – far too close to 'Johnny', holding a mug out to him. Her eyes widened, and she almost yelled out; what exactly she would have yelled was still somewhat beyond her, but she certainly felt the need to express…something. Still, she thankfully bit her tongue, instead merely descending the steps. She was _very_ pleased to note that both of their – George's and Jonathan's – attention fixed onto her, pleasant smiles spreading across their faces. She also noticed that the serving woman was looking between the two of them, mouth hanging slightly open, before her eyes followed where they were looking. Falling upon Alanna, the girl gave a small sniff, stamped her foot, and sidled back to the kitchen; George and Jonathan not even giving her a second glance. Priceless.

"Ar," George softly said, "So she emerges."

"I had things to do, George." She replied.

"Like?"

"Never you mind, George Cooper." She haughtily said. "Never you mind. Anyway, aren't you going to introduce me to _'Johnny'_?" she added, eyes shifting to the individual in question.

"Aye. Alanna, this is Johnny." He swept a quick glance around them, making sure no-one was nearby, before lowering his voice. "Johnny's t'noble I was tellin' you 'about. And," turning to 'Johnny', "'Lanna's the woman who wanted t'get in touch wit' you."

Jonathan smiled, "Nice to meet you, Alanna." He said, in a mischievous tone.

"And yourself, Johnny." She replied. 

"I noticed that you weren't particularly surprised when you saw me," he told her quietly, "I don't suppose certain friends of mine have been gossiping behind my back with you?"

She shrugged, "I worked it out on my own yesterday; your friends just confirmed my suspicions."

George was frowning somewhat. "'Ang on, you two already know each other?" 

"Yeah," she told him. "I met 'Johnny' yesterday, at the Palace."

"You were at the palace yesterday?" George continued, "'Ow come I dun know o'that?"

She turned to him, then, tearing her eyes away from Jonathan. She was surprised to see that George looked somewhat angry at this turn of events, "Sorry, George." She said sincerely, "But you weren't here before I left, and by the time I'd gotten back, I was, ahh…" she blushed, "Indisposed."

He smiled at that, "Aye, s'alright. Just threw me." She nodded.

"It's good to see you again," Jonathan said, and she turned back to him. "I mean, I didn't get to say goodbye to you yesterday."

"That's alright," she told him, smiling. "Gary said that you probably had a- what did he say? A meeting or something." He nodded, as if agreeing with what his cousin had told her. "Although, in truth, I didn't quite understand what he meant by that."

George frowned, "You mean you dun-"

"Alanna," Jonathan cut in, "Ahh, I was actually wondering if you'd like to, uhh…" he was mumbling now, "That is to say, would you like to walk with me for a moment? Just I know a nice little shop around the corner that sells some nice pastries, and was wondering if you'd like to join me for breakfast."

"I think I'd like that," she told him, making a point to ask either of them what she apparently 'didn't know'. "I've got one or two things to ask you, too."

"Well then, should we go now?" he asked, to which she nodded. He smiled, and the two of them made their way towards the door. Neither of them noticed George's face falling as he watched them go.

***

"I am sorry for missing you last night, " Jonathan was telling her as they walked along, "But I had something to do which couldn't be put off."

"That's fine," she replied. She shot a glance towards him as they walked side by side, now that he was in the sunlight. It was strange, she'd never considered that putting on a different pair of clothes and dirtying oneself up could make a difference, but he looked so different then he had yesterday. He just looked…happier. She couldn't really describe it, "I mean, it wasn't all that good of a fight anyway. And you _did_ come to the Dove last night, George said, so I should be apologizing to you as well."

He glanced at her this time, giving her a slight smile. "Nonsense. I was coming down here anyway. Needed to chat to George." He explained, "And not a very good fight? Raoul and Gary were talking about it all night! At least I got to see most of it." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're amazing, you know that. The way you move, it's just…" he trailed off, probably because he noticed her turning bright red.

She smiled at him, and the two of them continued walking in silence for a little while. She enjoyed this, just walking beside him – he made her so energetic, it seemed. Like when she'd jumped into an icy cold river in autumn back when she was at Trebond. _Tingling_ even. Thinking of Trebond reminded her of Thom, however, and the smile shrinking slightly. 

"Are you ok?" he asked, seeing her face falling. "I mean, if you want to go back to the Dove or something-"

"No!" she almost yelled, "No. I'm alright. I was just thinking of a bad memory, really." Her tone was moderated a little, and it seemed to placate Jonathan. Well, somewhat; he was still frowning slightly. "Jonathan, I'm fine, really."

"Johnny," he mumbled, "Just call me Johnny out here, in the city."

She frowned at that, "Why?"

"Ah, just," He swallowed heavily. "Alanna, are you, uh, are you going to be free for most of the day?"

"I'm fairly sure-" she remembered her meeting with Gary, Raoul and Alex, "Ah, no. I was to meet with your friends at the Dove at midday."

"My friends?" he repeated, "Raoul, Gary and Alex? They never mentioned that."

"They wanted to know how I know George, I think. They got a bit uptight when I asked if they knew him."

"Oh, right." He nodded. "Yes, I can see why they'd probably not mention that to me. Not that I didn't already know how you knew him," he continued, smiling slightly. "George told me about you a few day's after you got here."

"I take it you two are close friends, then?" She hesitantly asked, somewhat unsure of what she wanted the answer to be. If it was a 'No', she'd be somewhat disappointed, as she thought the two of them would have made quite a good combination; from what she knew of Jonathan, anyway. But if it was a 'Yes'…she winced. If it wasn't bad enough already that she had rejected George, breaking his heart, only to start making moon-eyes at his close friend. Maybe-?

"Oh yes," Jonathan's voice broke into her thoughts. "George has been like an older brother to me, really. I mean, I've always had friends like Alex, Gary and Raoul, but-" he cut off suddenly, laughing nervously. "But George has always been different to them, treating me like I wanted to be treated than how I _should_ have been treated." She frowned, there it was again. Something that didn't _quite_ make sense to her. Pieces were starting to come together, though – they just needed a few more pieces. Maybe she should just ask him what he meant? She didn't get the chance, however, as Jonathan continued talking about George. "Yeah, he taught me some of the tricks of thieving, and such. Things we didn't learn at the Palace; knives, stealth, y'know. He helps in some of the, uh, decisions I've had to make, too. But that's not to say I use him, or whatever." He hastily added; he obviously knew what George's normal aversion to Nobles was, she realised. "No, George has just been a very close friend of mine since I first saw him in the city a few years ago."

"How'd you meet?" 

He shrugged. "It was really weird, I was riding past and I saw him skulking around in an alley. He was-" he waved his arms, "Y'know, staring at me. He was there the next time I went out into the city, too; and I eventually managed to grab a hold of him one day, asked him why he was so interested in me. He told me that his Gift had told him to keep an eye on me," he laughed – "He even said that maybe the God's themselves asked him to watch me. Something about, well. I can't actually remember what he said about that. Anyway, so I was intrigued, of course."

"Naturally." She added, smiling.

"Naturally," he repeated, sharing the same smile with her. "I followed him one day, well. Thought I was following him, anyway. Hindsight tells me that I don't think I was quite as stealthy as I thought at the time. I found him at the Dancing Dove, and we've been friends ever since. He helps me learn new things, helps me with certain problems here and there, and I help him with information."

"Information?"

He waved her question away. "Let's just say I have some influence with the palace spy rings. I know how they're trawling the lower city for thieves and the like. But," he shrugged, "Neither George nor myself keeps' tally's of how we've helped each other, or anything."

"Good." She muttered, "Good. That's good that you're such close friends."

He smiled at her. "And as I said, when I came into the city to talk to him a month or so ago, who do I learn is staying with, hmm?"

"As I have learnt with you," she teased, "I notice that some people tend to exaggerate things." She smiled mischievously as he blushed, "What did he tell you about me?"

"Oh, just that 'She's t'fastest thing you ever seen, Johnny'," he replied, putting on an accent that sounded much like George's. "Plus a lot about you, generally."

"Like?"

"I dare not repeat them, Mistress Shang," he told her. "I'd be in fear for my life." 

She glared at him. "Not more about my eyes, or whatever. Because Gary told me that-"

"Gary say's a lot of things," Jonathan replied quickly, colouring again. "I wouldn't believe everything he tells you. But no, nothing about your eyes that I remember. Just about what you're like, y'know. He liked how strong you were, I think. Mentally." His smile which he'd shown on his face for the last few minutes seemed to wavering slightly, now. As if he'd just been reminded of something he'd have rather forgotten.

"Oh."

He pursed his lips then, stiffening a little. He walked like this for a while, before whispering to her. "He seems quite taken with you."

She grimaced, internally. Was this going to be a problem? "He does, doesn't he." She replied, softly, making sure to keep her eyes on his face.

He seemed to be steeling himself, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Do you-? I mean, ahh, are you…taken with him?" he finally squeaked out, all but whispering at the end.

"I-" she sighed, answering this question was a little tougher than she'd expected. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he asked her. 

"No." she replied, "Not really. I do like him, though."

"Oh." 

"But I don't think we'd, y'know…" she fumbled for the answer. "Work."

"Oh." He sounded choked up. "Oh, that's, well." He trailed off.

She smiled at that. "I know." She told him. "It's very confusing, isn't it?"

Chuckling nervously, he simply replied "Oh yeah." She realised then that they'd reached wherever he had been leading them, pulling into a small dingy shop that smelt _wonderful._ "Hi, Tornil." Jonathan almost shouted to a small pudgy man who was facing away from them, wearing a smeared apron. 

"Ey?" the man queried, "Is someone there?"

"Tornil!" this time he _did_ shout.

"Oh, 'eck!" the man turned, eyes widening as he caught sight of Jonathan. "Aye, look! It's Johnny! Could'a spoken up a touch, lad." Jonathan shot Alanna a smirk at that. "And who's this, eh? Johnny, eh?" the man was pointing a finger at her.

"This is Alanna!"

"Ah, I knew a Norna once, too. She with you, Johnny?"

"Alanna!"

"Eh? I asked if she was wit' you, not what 'er name was. What's wrong with you boy, mind all fuzzed up because o' a pretty face?"

"Never mind," Alanna whispered to Jonathan, blushing. She had noticed the racks of pastries behind Tornil, and wanted to know what they were. Pointing to one of them, she too shouted at the man. "What's that one!"

"That one, eh Norna?" he shuffled over to have a closer look, "This is an apricot slice. One for a silver."

"Apricot?" A whole _silver_? Why on earth was it so expensive?

"Eh?"

"Apricot!" she shouted back, "What's that?"

"Carthaki fruit," the man replied. "Very nice, sweet. Also expensive to import." He turned from her, rummaging around in a crate. With an "Aha!" he produced what she supposed was one of these 'apricots'. It was…furry. Did she want to eat something that was furry? Tornil was still offering it to her, and with a tremulous smile she took it, biting a chunk of it off. 

"Mmm!" It was _very_ nice, she decided. "This is great!" she yelled back to the baker, who simply nodded. She offered a portion of it to Jonathan, who took it from her. He too fancied it, and with a grab into his pouch, procured two silvers, paying for two of them. "Oh, Jonathan- I don't want you paying for them. I mean, I probably have-" she fumbled about her body, realizing with a blush that she hadn't even _brought_ her purse with her. "Ah…I'll pay you back-"

He was smiling, shaking his head. "Never mind, Alanna." He told her. "It's alright; my gift."

Tornil handed two of the pastries to Jonathan, who passed one along to Alanna. "You never answered my question, lad," The baker noted as they were leaving; "She wit' you?"

Jonathan looked intently at her for a short moment, before turning towards Tornil. "I don't know yet." He said simply, and followed her out. She wasn't sure what to say, so instead she just jammed a piece of the – what had Tornil called it? Apricot slice – into her mouth. It was even more tasty in a pasty, it seemed. Jonathan walked alongside her again. "I was actually going to ask you that," he asked, after a while. "I mean, you said that you didn't know if it would…work…between you and George."

"Yeah." She nodded. She supposed she could say a little more on it, but she herself still didn't quite understand her feelings, settling instead for another "Yeah."

He nodded, and seemed to be steeling himself again. He placed a hand at the small of her back after a moment, and directed her to a small alcove in a side wall. Putting her back to the wall, she looked up at him. He was peering down at her intently. "Do you," he began, before swallowing again. "Do you think it could work, uh, between us?"

"I don't know, Jonathan." She said his name softly, "I don't even know you, yet." _Well, _she thought, _not counting the dreams._ She still hadn't worked out whether or not he was the same man as the one in the dreams – whether they acted the same. She had been noticing small discrepancies; it seemed that the _real_ Jonathan was slightly…less formal, it seemed. Less controlling, or something.

"Would you like to get to know me?" he whispered, face inches from her own now.

It was her turn to swallow; "I think I'd like that." She replied.

"Alanna, would it be alright if I kissed you?" she didn't trust her ability to speak then, and merely nodded. He brought his face down to hers, and gently – oh so gently – touched his lips to hers. There were no fireworks, of course; no electrical sparks or magical energies, but it felt _so good_. It was certainly a tentative kiss, though; nothing like George's; which telegraphed his passion for her. Jonathan's were…nervous, yet they still seemed to convey his feelings. Of course, if he felt anything like she did at that moment, being nervous _was_ the strongest feeling present. They broke apart after a while, and Alanna almost moaned in annoyance. A small satisfied smile did settle on her face, however, and that seemed to fill him with confidence. His eyes seemed to be asking permission again, and her smile widened. She brought her hands up and pulled his head to hers; the gentle kiss turning far more passionate, yet still somewhat tender. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her flush against him, and she seemed to lose the ability to think for a moment.

When perception flooded back into her, she realised her hands were tangled in his hair, and she was making soft whimpering sounds into his mouth. That was probably a tad too forward, she thought, and slowly pulled away from him. She hoped, seeing him, that she didn't look quite as…_eager_ as he did. There were a few scatterings of people about the place by now, and a few of them were looking at the two of them. She blushed, and Jonathan chuckled softly. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you," he quietly told her. "Crowd be damned."

She chewed on her lip slightly, before she looked up at him again. He had a wild grin on his face, as if he'd been given a hundred Gold coins. She realised a similar smile was probably playing across her lips. "I think I'm going to enjoy getting to know you, Johnny."

"Call me Jon," he quietly told her, taking her hand in his. "It's what my closest friends call me."

She almost sniggered; _And I _certainly_ want to be close to you…_

"So," he told her after a while. They were making their way back to the Dove, having finished their apricot pastries. Well, finished what they could, she corrected with a grin. They'd dropped the bags when they were kissing, and muddy apricot didn't taste quite as nice as the fresh version. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.

"Tonight? I don't think so, why?"

He gave her a soft smile. "I have some things to tell you." He said, softly. "Things that I probably should have told you beforehand."

"What do you mean?" she queried, frowning.

"Just," he began, "I want to get to know you. You want to get to know me." Shrugging, he continued. "I haven't been very revealing so far, some things you should probably know before…well."

She blushed. _Before _indeed. "Okay," she replied. "Probably one or two things you should know about me, too." She hadn't even mentioned Thom to him yet; tonight would be a perfect time to do so. "Meet me at the Dove?"

"I guess so; just after last light." He agreed. "There's this place I want to show you tonight. A park."

"Do they have parks in the lower city?" she asked, confused. 

"Not really," He grinned. "It's in the palace grounds, technically."

"Technically?"

"I'm not revealing anything more, Alanna." He taunted, "You'll just have to wait and see." She poked her tongue out at that, and he affected a shocked expression. "Well I never!" With a laugh of glee, she sprinted away from him, and he rushed after her with a laugh. They sprinted down the streets back to the Dove, dodging early morning – well, late morning by now – shoppers and tradesmen. She was faster than him, and her endurance was better, but she let him almost catch up now and again, laughing at him as she sprinted off again, just as he thought he'd caught up. 

She slowed down to a jog as she reached the outside of the Dove, pulling into the mouth of the alley where she normally trained. He pulled in just behind her, a lot more out of breath than she, and she didn't waste time in telling him so. "Kind of unfit, aren't we Sir Jon?" she whispered into his ear after he had caught her about the waist, pulling her to him. 

"Are we?" he replied breathily, "I think we're just fine for the purpose at hand." And he kissed her again, long and hard. By the time he broke away from her, they were both breathing a little harder than normal. "I'll see you tonight, then?" he asked, and she nodded. With a last squeeze of her fingers, they parted. With a last wave over his shoulder, he headed out of the alley and into the growing mass of people. 

She touched her fingers to her lips, a happy grin spreading across her face. Was she moving too fast with this? She wasn't particularly sure, but she wasn't particularly sure she cared, either. It felt good, and it felt right.

***

Cracking open the door to the Dove, she made her way into the main room of the inn. At this time of day it was almost abandoned, but she hoped- there! Sure enough, Riven was still sitting at the table in the corner. She grinned, and made her way over to him, greeting him cheerfully as she sat. He turned bloodshot eyes up at her, and gave her an expression that would have killed.

"Why are you so perky?" he whispered harshly. "And dun speak so loud!"

She grinned. "Sorry, Riven."

"Hurgh." He grunted back. "Why _are_ you so perky?" he asked again; "I mean, I drank more than you, but surely you feel _slightly_ bad?" he sounded almost as if he was hoping she felt bad.

"I did," she agreed. Remembering what had just happened this morning, she added; "But I'm fine now. Better than fine, even!" and the smile spread even wider.

"That's just-" Riven shook his head, grimacing at the pain it caused. He threw his hands up, as if appealing to the heavens. "That's just so…unfair! Not only can she beat me up, she doesn't even feel t'aftereffects o' a night o' drink?"

"Sorry, Riven."

"Stop apologizing, 'Lanna." He moaned, "S'your fault I'm like this anyway."

"_What!_?"

"Not so loud!" he whispered, putting his hands on his ears. "Y'know, you coming in 'ere so late; eating and drinkin'. I wouldn't even 'ave started if you ain't 'ave been 'ere. So, yeah, s'all your fault."

She rolled her eyes, but she knew he was only saying this because of his aching head. "Sorry, Riven." She repeated. "Next time I'll make sure not to tempt you."

"Damn right!"

She grinned, and stood up. "Want a drink of water?" she asked him, to which he slowly nodded. Making her way over to kitchen, she noticed that George was sitting alone at one of the tables. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly. He jumped at her voice, almost as if she'd startled him. That was odd, she thought, George was _never_ startled by anyone.

"Oh, Lass. Just you." He murmured, "Sure, sure. Take a seat."

As she did so, she glanced across the table; he had a small mug of what appeared to be mead sitting in front of him. She frowned, finally loosing the grin she had been wearing since meeting Jon. "Are you drinking, George?" she asked, concerned.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?" she queried, "Why so early?"

Shrugging again, he merely grunted out a "Because." If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was sulking.

"Are you ok, George?"

He looked like he was about to nod, shifting his head slightly down, before he froze. He turned to her then, eyes intense on her own. "You like 'im, dun you?" he asked, softly. 

"Who? Jon?" he almost winced when she said 'Jon', as if he knew what that probably meant. "Of course I like him, George."

Shaking his head, George qualified. "I mean you like 'im," he swallowed, "You like 'im like I like you." He finished on a whisper.

She looked down then. "I'm not sure," she told him truthfully. Of course, she knew she _liked_ him – but she also knew George _loved_ her. Did she love Jon? How could she, she didn't even know him. "But I do feel something for him, yes."

George obviously thought the same thing; "You dun even _know_ 'im, lass!" he whispered harshly to her. "You dun even know just who 'e is!" he had obviously been thinking about this all morning, and he had been getting very worked up about it. His face was darkening with anger, it appeared.

"I know he's got a secret," she replied softly, a slow temper also burning in her. George was _lecturing_ her? "And I know that he's going to tell me that tonight."

"Aye? Really? Will that be before or after you lie with 'im?" he spat. She gasped in shock, eyes wide. He too seemed to realise just what he'd said, and he looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, lass. That dun come out right; I dun mean it like that. I'm just worried that 'e might be…"

"Using me?" she offered, still upset with him. George nodded slightly, and she sighed. "Don't worry, George. I can protect myself."

"Aye, I know. I just dun want you t' 'ave to."

"Don't worry, George."

"But I do!" he replied, bringing his head up again. "I do, lass! That's why I can't stand this!"

"What?"

"You an' 'im." He bit off, "It's just…"

"Confusing?" she offered. "I know; we both felt it too."  
"Aye?"

"Yeah." She sighed, "Look, George, I know you didn't mean what you just said, and I'll forgive you for it. Eventually-" she added, eyes on his. "It hurt, I'll tell you that. But I know your feelings, and you know mine."

"Aye."

"I do care for you George, and that makes things much more complicated." He nodded at that, though she realised she could probably have chosen better words. "I'm sorry for what my words or actions may have done to you-"

"Dun worry 'bout it, lass."

"-but you'll be the first to know when I sort my feelings out, ok?"

"Aye lass," he replied, "And I 'ppreciate it. Just…dun get 'urt, ok? I'm afraid o' your reaction t'what 'e tells you tonight. I'll stay at the Dove tonight, if you want to chat, aye?"

She wasn't sure if that was him being noble or not, but she decided to let it slide. George was acting very differently than what he had been before, and she was feeling uncomfortable with him. "Well, thank you George." She told him, and began to stand. 

"Wait," he stated, laying a hand on her arm. "I just-" he sighed, shaking his head. "Look, 'Lanna. I'm sorry for what I said just then. All o' it. I know I'm actin' like a jealous sort, but," he chuckled, "Well, I am, I am jealous. But I shouldun 'ave taken it out on you."

She grinned, that was the real George. "Apology accepted, George." She gave his hand a squeeze, before she made her way back towards the kitchen. Procuring a mug of water, she took it back to Riven, who – of course – yelled at her for being so late, and then yelled at her for making him yell at her. She wasn't sure exactly what had made her headache disappear; whether it was Shang training or something else, but she didn't care. If Riven was a normal example of how she'd have been acting with a full hangover, then she'll take her current state of happiness any day, regardless of how it came to be.

***

Raoul, Gary and Alex arrived at around midday, all dressed in dirty shirts and torn breeches. She frowned; Jon's attire hadn't been quite as tattered as this. 

"His disguise is the son of a wealthy merchant." Raoul explained to her when she asked, "We're just supposed to be labourer's." 

"You have specific disguises?" she asked in disbelief. Wasn't that just a little over the top?

"Oh yeah," Gary nodded, sagely. "Of course. We have to have specific roles when we come out here. Raoul's a woodcutter, and I'm working for a baker."

"_Why_?" she asked, almost giggling. 

Raoul and Gary blinked. "Well, err…" Gary stuttered.

"Don't confuse them, Alanna." Alex commented, giving her a wide –somewhat smarmy- grin, "It's not nice." She laughed; doing so even harder when she noticed Raoul and Gary's confused looks.

"Keep it down!" Riven hissed from the table next to them. "I can't even hear myself think!"

"Like you ever could, Riven." Gary scoffed. _Obviously familiar with the regulars then_, Alanna thought.

Riven glared back; "Quiet, idiot." Gary laughed at the youth's feeble attempt at wordplay, and was about to open his mouth in reply when Alanna grabbed his arm.

"Go easy on him," she told Gary. "He's got a hangover."

Gary and Raoul chuckled, but didn't say anything. "Poor Riven," Alex commiserated, "You _know_ you shouldn't drink more than a thimbleful!" This sent Gary into a full belly laugh again.

Riven just glared at them, "Shut up, Alex." He said, "Or I'll set 'Lanna on you again." The smirk dropped off Alex's face, and this time it was Riven who laughed. 

Alanna smiled slightly at their antics, but decided things were probably getting a tad too heated.  "All right, you two." She stated, "That's enough. Don't worry Riven, we'll try and keep it down." He shrugged his appreciation, going back to studying his mug of water. She turned her attention back to the knights. "Now, you wanted to know how I knew George, right?"

Raoul nodded, "Yeah, though we're not trying to pry or anything." 

Shrugging slightly, Alanna grinned. "No need to worry, Raoul." She told them. Of course, she wasn't going to divulge _exactly_ how she knew George, not yet anyway. She was going to see how Jon reacted to Thom and all that before she let her other Knight friends in on the picture. "My former Shang Master, Liam Ironarm-"

"The Dragon?" Alex asked, interested.

She frowned, "How did you know that?"

"Arune told us." Raoul pointed out quietly, and she nodded.

"Ah, of course. Anyway, Liam had known of George when he passed through here a few years ago-" She wasn't actually sure how long ago Liam had passed through here. She imagined, however, that it wouldn't have been all that long ago. George was still fairly young, being in his mid-to-late twenties, she assumed; "-and when I left Shang almost two months ago now, he told me to seek him out if ever I came to Corus."

"And why did you come here?" Alex sharply asked.

She almost frowned. He was quick, both mentally and physically. It wasn't a cunning like George had, but it was certainly a bright intelligence that burned between Alex's ears. "I used to have family here," she lied, smoothly. "When I arrived however, I found that they'd died long ago."

"Wouldn't you have heard if they had?" he asked again. "I mean, surely you wouldn't have come here on such a whim."

"Alex," Raoul said slowly, "Alanna hadn't been out of Shang for seven years." He too was frowning slightly. Obviously he was a bit curious over Alex's behaviour also.

Alex obviously caught Raoul's curious expression, and smiled warmly. "Of course," he told her. "I apologise. I was just curious."

She shrugged. "No problems. I'd be curious too; especially given how much trouble I could have gotten you all in yesterday." She was still somewhat annoyed by that, it _was_ such an obvious mistake she had made. "But George is a friend of mine, I'd never do anything to hurt him or one of his friends." She added, _even if that doesn't necessarily extend to heartache._

Gary nodded. "Ah, of course. We never really expected otherwise, Alanna." He smiled at her. "As you yourself said yesterday, we probably trust you more being a friend of George's than we would if you weren't!" They all laughed at that, and a call was made for drink. Winking serving girls came out – the knights were obviously favourites – trays' laden with food and drink, and they set about enjoying themselves.

Eventually, the shadows began to lengthen, and the general revelry began to slow. She'd made sure to moderate her drink, and wasn't feeling particularly tipsy, thankfully. Raoul and Gary had drunk a lot, but the larger man was obviously able to handle his liquor well, looking none the worse for wear. Gary, on the other hand…

She grimaced again as he launched into another song, and decided to move away before he took hold of her again. He wanted her to sing with him, apparently, but it was something she _certainly_ did not want to get involved in. In the end he settled for Riven who, obviously ignoring what he had felt like this morning, had set about drinking himself unconscious along with them. Alex had, like Alanna herself, carefully made sure he was only drinking in moderation. Seeing Gary and Riven trying to stand up on the table, she grabbed Raoul's elbow and dragged him to another table.

"So," she almost had to shout to be heard above the two drunks, "did you end up sending the poem and flowers?" She didn't know why, but she was getting very excited with this. Maybe it was her newly awakened femininity – and that reminded her, she'd need to see Eleni tomorrow about her hair; but the burly knight's courting of Lady Yves was something she wanted to know all about.

Raoul nodded, "Yes, I did." He was looking stony faced for some reason, and she was suddenly worried that Yves had rejected him. 

"And?" she asked after a while, unable to stomach not knowing the result. 

"And what?"

"What was her response?"

"Oh," he looked down, somewhat guiltily, "I don't know yet. I only sent it off an hour before I left to come here."

Alanna winced. "Why didn't you send it last night?"

He blushed. "I was, ah, worried that she'd reject it. So I decided to send it when I wasn't at the palace."

"Raoul," she sighed good-naturedly, "You're going to go back there anyway."

"I know," he smiled slightly. "It just felt…safer." She laughed at that, elbowing him in the ribs as she did so. Eventually she stopped laughing, and noticed that he was peering at her rather intently. She shot him a questioning glance, and he smiled slightly. "I also noticed that you talked about _Jon_ being here earlier." He pointed out, emphasizing the 'Jon'. "What happened, Mistress Shang? Is this related to the so-called 'Secret Desire' you _so expressly_ denied feeling for him yesterday?"

"You know very well I never denied it," she told him, smiling. "But yes, he visited the Dove this morning."

"And?"

"And we talked. That's all." She furiously tried to keep from blushing.

Raoul stared at her for a moment, watching the barest hint of colour spreading into her ears. "Liar." He softly said, "I bet that wasn't all at all." He smiled slightly, probably because she turned away in embarrassment, but she heard a slightly strange note in his voice.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.

He waved her question away. "Never mind." He softly said, "Never mind, it's nothing."

_Now who's the liar?_ She thought to herself. It most certainly was not nothing, that much she could tell. Things were getting decidedly odd – why was everyone so concerned about her and Jon? First George – which, she rationalized, could probably be explained in part, and now Raoul. Unlike George, she noted – ashamed that she could be so calm in thinking so - Raoul probably wasn't jealous of Jon, so why was he worried? She was incredibly anxious to talk to Jon tonight, just to get to the bottom of things.

***

The three Knights had left soon afterwards, Alex and Raoul helping Gary along between the two of them. They made arrangements to catch up at the palace in a few days; for them to 'train together', Alex had said. She was a bit wary of Alex at the moment; his behavious in the Dove had been somewhat peculiar, and his comment yesterday about still wanting to beat her couldn't really be boding well for their friendship. Could it? Friendly rivalry could work, after all – it was very prominent in Shang. But, she remembered, she'd not really had any close friends in Shang; she didn't particularly like that element of competition in her friendships.

Still, there was plenty of time to think about that, and not much time to think about tonight. She waved goodbye to Raoul and Alex, gave Gary a disapproving glare, helped Nelly get Riven back upstairs to his own bedroom (Nelly telling her almost unconscious son that he was going to be in _so_ much trouble; something, Alanna noted with a grin, didn't really seem to change with Riven), before finally making her way into her room. She'd called out to Nelly to run a bath, and so she'd at least be clean. 

Again looking somewhat wistfully at the dress hanging in her closet, she decided – once more, against wearing it. Besides, she thought with a smirk, it probably wasn't the best thing to wear if they were going to a park. Setting the clean pair of breeches, a shirt and hose on her bed, she quietly made her way down to the baths. These were situated on the other side of the hall from her, and she was always nervous about anyone, as George would have put it, 'copping an eyeful' when she would duck back across the hallway. At least she was bathing quite early this evening, and there weren't many people about yet. 

Relaxing in the bath after locking the door, she thought some more on what was to come. This morning had been so amazing, and Jon…she blushed at the memory. Which, she realised, was a bit strange, considering the extent some of the dreams had gone; before they turned violent, of course. She made a mental note to take the herbal tea Eleni had recommended tonight. She didn't want such a perfect day to be upset by the dreams.

She frowned; she shouldn't presume that something bad wouldn't happen tonight, she reminded herself. Shang were taught to be constantly vigilant; it wouldn't do for her to be caught off guard because she was making moon eyes with Jon, or doing something else. She wondered whether or not she should wet her hair; it would be nice to do so, but it might make even more of the colour run. She didn't want to look like a court fool with multi-coloured hair when she met Jon. Deciding against it, and finishing her soaping, she stepped out of the bath. She grabbed her dirty clothes, wrapped a towel about herself, and creeped to the doorway. Cracking it open, she snuck a peek in both directions, and leapt across the hall. 

Slamming the door behind her closed, she threw on her clean clothes, and brushed her hair quickly. She had caught a glimpse of the common room as she was heading towards the bath, and the number of its occupants suggested that it was getting late. Sliding on her boots, making sure her shirt sat properly on her shoulders and her breeches sat snugly on her hips, she decided she was looking quite nice. She threaded her pendant into the front of her shirt, and took a last look into the mirror. 

She stepped out of her room then, and made her way downstairs. Jon had said that he'd meet her after last light, which was fairly soon, and she wanted to save him the effort of having to reach her in her rooms. She knew the evening crowds here at the Dove, and they were raucous, energetic, and a lot like a very smelly wall if you were attempting to move from one side of the room to the other. She spotted a table fairly close to the door, and made her way over to it. A number of men along the way whistled at her, or tried to touch her, but a well directed glare (and a few breakings of fingers, Shang skills were useful in social situations too) dissuaded the rest of the assembled crowd to approach her. She sat, awaiting the arrival of Jon.

***

He'd come fairly soon after that, almost walking past her until she'd tugged on his shoulder. A wide smile had broken out on his face as he'd seen her, and she reciprocated. Hugging her tightly, he brushed a kiss onto her cheek, and began to lead her outside again. It seemed he too knew that there was no point attempting to converse in such a dense crowd. A few of said crowd groaned as she left with Jon, while a few of the woman glared at her. She didn't particularly care.

Once they'd gotten outside, he turned almost immediately towards her. "You look beautiful, Alanna." He whispered, taking her hands in his and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She grinned, and taking him in from head to toe, decided that he too looked amazing. She realised that the fairly gritty shirt and breeches he was wearing were to prevent anyone thinking him a noble, thus preventing him from getting into trouble, but they didn't detract away from the whole. His blue eyes seemed even more beautiful in the dark, and his hair looked as if a part of the night sky had settled onto his head. Which, she realised with a start, sounded rather silly.

He took her hand then, and they began to slowly make their way through the darkened streets. She was slightly worried about facing some footpads or thieves out, though it wasn't all that late, but she felt Jon could probably handle himself if the going got tough. She knew she could, of course, but she didn't want to worry for him when he was out here as well. She sighed, best not to mull over that at the moment, anyway. If it happened, it happened. Concentrate on the happy experience for now.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a distance, what seemed to be a mile or two to Alanna, until they reached a small house a few paces away from the castle wall. Jon opened the door with a key he took from his pocket, and ushered her in. 

"What is this place?" she asked, somewhat…disappointed. She had been expecting a park, this was, well, a hovel. And hovel was probably her being _nice_.

Jon grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking. Which, given the expression on her face, was probably not that difficult to discern. "This, my dear," she knew he was only joking, but she smiled at that. "Is something so secret only a handful of people in the city know what it is."

She looked at him expectantly, "And?"

"My, aren't we impatient?" she glared, and smacked him on the arm. "Ow! Alright, this is the cover for a passage that leads into the castle walls."

"Right into the castle?"

"Not right in, no." he qualified. "What it does do is get us into the castle grounds without having to stop by the Guards."

"Oh." She softly said; why didn't Jon want to go past the guards? He was a noble, wasn't he?

"You're not impressed?" Jon asked, a mischievous tone to his voice. "And it's all downhill from here, too…" 

"Ha, ha." She dryly said. "But I am impressed, yes. I just-" grimacing, she whispered "But do we have to do something so, illegal?"

"It's completely safe, Alanna." Jon tried to convince her, "Only myself, George, and maybe one or two other people know about it."

"It's the 'maybe' that worries me." She murmured, "But anyway. So this will take us into the castle grounds?"

Jon nodded eagerly. "Yes, and then I've set up some food for us not too far away from where the exit is."

"Wouldn't someone have found the food?" she asked, becoming more and more worried.

"No way!" he laughed, "No-one ever comes around to that part of the garden, and even if they did, I've hidden it." He smiled at her, but she still looked apprehensive. "Look, trust me Alanna." He softly said, "Please. We'll be fine, I swear it."

She gulped. It was about trust, wasn't it? If she didn't agree to this, would he think she didn't trust him? _Did_ she trust him? "Alright, I trust you." She told him after a moment's deliberation. "Let's do it."

Smiling, he took her hand, and led the two of them over to a one of the walls. It was covered with a _disgustingly_ woven throw rug that, for some reason, was hung up on the wall. She frowned, opening her mouth to question his sanity, when Jon quietly spoke a few words. She froze, realizing that he was Gifted, and that he was using magic. Of course, she wasn't quite as afraid of the Gift as some other of the Shang were, but she still was highly uncomfortable with it. Stiffening, she realised Jon had finished whatever he had been saying – spelling? – and looking at her intently. "Are you ok?"

"I just-" she swallowed thickly. "I just get somewhat anxious around people using the Gift."

"Oh." He said quietly, obviously saddened by this. "Are you, uh, _afraid_ of it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just- I would have preferred that you told me you were going to use it. I can stand it, but it just caught me off guard."

Nodding, he smiled slightly. "I'll bear it in mind." She grinned back, and gestured towards the wall. "Oh, yeah. So, this is what's known as an alternating illusion; it's either a solid wall or an illusionary wall..."

"I don't need the theory, Jon."

"Ah, yes. Sorry." He gave her hand a squeeze, and began to explain it's operation. "Now, what we have to do is just walk through its location, and we'll emerge on the other side. The tunnel."

"Walk through its location?" she queried. "You mean walk _through_ the wall? Gee, and you wonder why no-one else knows about it."

"But the wall isn't there, Alanna." Jon told her, "Look?" he took his other arm and slowly pushed it into the hanging rug. To her immense shock, the hand disappeared; it looked as if Jon's arm simply ended at the wall. She turned pale, she was most certainly not expecting this. "Alanna, please. Look at me." She did so, wide amethyst eyes staring into piercing blue ones. "Do you trust me?"

"Y-yes." She stuttered, after a while.

"You can do this, Alanna. _We_ can do this." She mustered her courage, and nodded. He gave her hand a squeeze. "Right, now on the count of five we- Alanna!" Jon cried out as he was pulled along; Alanna, wanting to get it over and done with as soon as she could, charged headlong into the rug. To her immense relief, the spell still seemed to be working, and she passed through the wall and into a dimly lit – with, she noted, bright blue glowing torches, tunnel. Jon almost ran into the back of her as she stood, panting. "Are you alright?" he asked her, after a while, taking her into his arms.

"Sorry." She mumbled into his chest. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have." he agreed. "I was worried that something might have happened had I gone first, and was just about to tell you that."

"But you didn't go first." She pointed out.

"Yes, but you just rushed off like that!" he whispered. "It _could _have happened quite differently!"

"But it didn't." she said, getting her breathing under control. "It didn't, and let's just let it rest."

He sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, alright. It did work out for the best, but Alanna-" she looked up at him, "_Please_ be careful. I care for you."

She blushed – that was the closest thing he had said yet about being interested in her. Of course, she _knew_ he wanted her, his kisses were certainly telegraphing that, but this was the first indication she had that his feelings went deeper. "Thank you, Jon." She whispered. He took her hand again, and they began walking down the tunnel. Eventually, they reached a dead end. Or what at first _appeared_ to be a dead end. Jon mumbled a few words, and the wall began to grow hazier, until it eventually had disappeared completely. Looking out, she noticed that they were now deep in the castle grounds.

Jon was poking his head around, glancing this way and that, and seemed to eventually decide the coast was clear. "Come on," he told her, pulling her alongside him. He made particularly sure that she went out first, following her closely. "There we go, out now." He grinned at her.

"Where's the food?" she whispered, hearing her stomach crying out to be fed. She hadn't managed to eat much at lunch, as Gary had stepped on her plate during one of his table-top-romps.

He chuckled quietly, and led her to the right, towards the castle walls. The tree's around here were very tall, and very large. She noticed, as she had the previous day, that the noble gardens seemed so much more lush than what they like in the city proper, but at the moment she didn't care. They couldn't have hid anywhere near as well as they did if the tree's had no leaves. Jon eventually reached a small clearing, almost completely surrounded by dense bushland. Jon walked over to a bush, and mumbling words to a spell again, procured a fairly large amount of small boxes. With the moon illuminating the clearing quite well, they decided that light wasn't a necessity, and began to open the boxes. Food, drink and cutlery filled them all, it seemed, although Jon also dragged out a rug for them to sit on.

They sat, and began to feed each other the food. It was a most wonderful hour or so, Alanna thought, as she and Jon got closer and closer. By the time they'd finished the small creamy pastries Jon had brought, they were lying in each other's arms, looking up at the moon together. He was stroking her arm, and she was curled up against him. She knew that she had to tell him certain things, and she knew that he had to tell _her_ certain things too, but for the moment she was content. Perhaps more content than she could ever remember being.

Still, she shouldn't put things off. She drew herself up, slightly, and kissed him. He pulled an arm up, running his hand through her hair. She pulled away after a while, and shifted across from him slightly. "We have to talk." She told him.

He nodded, gravely. "We do."

"I'll go first." She whispered, almost fearfully. He nodded, and she began to talk. She told him of who she was, of Alanna of Trebond, of Alanna the Shang, and of Alanna the woman. She told him of Thom, of the Goddess' visits, of her Gift – she told him _everything._ Everything, she realised, but the dreams; she could admit to herself that she was afraid of what his reaction would have been if he had known that. He sat there, watching her, and never broke in once. She sometimes wished he would, because she didn't have the faintest idea of how he felt about her, about the _real_ her.

"So you're a noble?" he asked softly, his mouth quirking into a smile. She nodded, slightly. "Wow."

"I sometimes wish I weren't." she said, "George couldn't accept that about me, for one."

He nodded himself. "I think it's wonderful," he told her softly. "And Thom's sister, too! I can't believe I didn't recognise your eyes."

"George said you knew Thom." She asked, tentatively.

"Yes, I did." He replied, just as softly. "He came to the palace about two years ago, out of the blue, and asked for residence there. What could I do to refuse? He was a Master Sorcerer."

"A Master?" she wondered, "But he would have been only about sixteen!"

Jon nodded, "Indeed he was. The youngest master ever, apparently. He was powerful, too, very powerful. Roger suggested that I shouldn't let him stay, that I should simply tell him to leave and walk away. But," he grinned, "Roger was just jealous. He's a sorcerer too, and was worried that he'd loose face at court if Thom stuck around. But Thom was also a noble, and he had the right to remain there. So, I let him stay."

"Roger?" Alanna queried.

"My Cousin. Other cousin," he added, after Alanna frowned. "Gary's from my father's side, Roger's from my mothers. Anyway, I wanted Thom to stay for a reason, too."

"Your mother." She proffered, remembering what George had told her about a month ago. "You wanted him to heal your mother."

Jon nodded. "She had been very sick for years, never recovered from the Sweating Sickness." Seeing Alanna's look at that, he filled her in on the details. "A magical illness that affected the capital for a while, taking almost one in three men and women. It affected both Mother and myself, and father spent all the money he owned on making sure that we survived it. Of course," he smiled grimly, "All the money in the world would have been for naught had Roger not turned up. He swept in one day, demanding to see me and mother, and over the next few day's healed us. Well, _appeared_ to heal us."

"You don't think he did?"

"Well, Thom later told me that Roger was one of the few men in the world who would have been able to make such an illness. Add into this the fact that for saving mother and I from it's clutches, and all the influence he gained with father, and let's just say I have my suspicions."

"But he's your cousin," she pointed out. "Surely he'd not attempt to kill you."

Jon grimaced. "I once thought like that, but now. Well, I'll stick to the story. Roger arrived, saving mother and I, and father couldn't bend over backwards enough to aid Roger in return. He granted him another Duchy, and made him a senior minister alongside Uncle Gareth." Alanna would have asked who that was, but the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to click together, and a decidedly queasy feeling was stirring in her stomach. "From then on, Father consulted with Roger on everything, and mother grew weaker and weaker. Father weakened with her, it appeared, and he began to withdraw from public life more and more. Roger and Uncle Gareth were left to make most of the decisions, father was just left to approve of them. At least Gareth tried to involve him, though!" he whispered harshly, "Roger just asked for his signature all the time! I didn't notice at the time, nor did anyone else, because mother and father were growing weaker and weaker. Thom arrived two years ago, and so I asked him if there was anything he could do to help them. He-" he paused, putting his head in his hands.

"It's ok, Jon." She said quietly, attempting to comfort him.

He raised his head then, his eyes suddenly even brighter as unshed tears pushed against his face. "When I was a page," he said, flatly, "I remember that my constant worry wasn't about the staff exercises, or not knowing an answer in Arithmetic, but wondering whether or not my mother would live through the year. It just, I don't know, Alanna. I was just always so frightened after she fell ill; after the Sweating Sickness, I was still so young." He sighed. "Thom was my last chance to save her, to save them. I knew that if he couldn't do anything, the youngest Master Sorcerer alive, then no-one could. He just opened the door to her room, and just…looked at her. He didn't even move towards her, and he turned to me and said "Jon, there's nothing I can do." Of course," Jon continued, the same emotionless voice making his words sound even more horrible. "I didn't believe him. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him up against a wall, yelling at him, cursing him. I mean, he possessed the most powerful Gift in the world, or so he claimed, how could he not do _anything?_ It seemed to make no sense. He didn't do anything in return, just let me shake him, softly telling me that he was sorry. Eventually I let him go, and lay next to my mother." He looked at her then, a tear rolling down his cheek. "When I woke up in the morning, she was dead. Father followed soon after, too."

"Oh, Jon."

"So," he continued, "I was forced into the role that I'd been born to do, as my father had so often said. Oh, after the funeral's of course. Roger and Gareth helped me to do so, of course, but that was to be expected. I didn't care by that point, I wanted no part in it, and I told them so numerous times. Gareth would calmly tell me that I had no choice, of course, but Roger-" he shook his head, "Roger would fly into a rage, telling me that I was disgracing the Conte name by not taking on the responsibility. I told him I didn't care, but he would just call me a weak boy. Of course, I was only eighteen; I still was a boy. I got the distinct impression, however, that Roger was pushing me – trying to make me snap, to run away from it all. I still do, when he advises me. He gives me good advice, I guess, but that's as much to save his own hide as it is mine. But he doesn't care for me, however much concern he layers onto me – I see through it. George has given me a good sense for lies; and Roger lies to me every time he talks to me. But what can I do? Father had lain a decree stating that Roger and Gareth were to advise me until my twenty-fifth birthday, and there's no way I can rip that decree up. Thom suspected him too, of more than just the Sweating Sickness. He was always trying to pry into Roger's business, always trying to figure out what he was into next."

"Do you think-?" 

"That Roger killed him? I don't doubt it, Alanna. But there's no proof, none to speak of, believe me I've searched for it. The decree doesn't stand if Roger or Gareth is found guilty of any offence; I can get rid of him, legally at least, if I can find this proof."

"And I want to find it to avenge my brother." Alanna whispered harshly. "We'll find it, Jon. I know we will."

Jon looked at her for a while, taking in her determined look. "I don't doubt that we can do so, the two of us." He quietly said. "I don't think even Roger of Conte can stand up to the Noble Falcon of Shang and Trebond."

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry," a small grin crept onto his face, the first in many minutes. It had obviously been a painful recollection of memories for him; and she knew the feeling well. "And I suppose you've worked out the other thing?"

She nodded. "You're the King of Tortall." She stated, softly.

Jon smiled softly. "Not that I asked for it, of course." Alanna could sympathise with _that_. "Do you-?" he grimaced. "Do you think you still want to get to know me?"

She took a moment for this. Did she? He was the _King_! Getting involved with him would mean scandal, being exposed to everyone and probably the outing of a lot of her personal history; something she wasn't particularly sure she wanted to do. But he had poured his heart open to her, as she had done to him, and she knew that he was also just a human. A human, she realised with a small start, that she wanted to comfort and help. One she _wanted_ to love. "Yes," she told him. "I do."

He smiled then, one that seemed to split his face. "And I want to know you, My Lady Shang." He took her in his arms then, and the two kissed for many minutes. Hands roving all over each other's bodies, their now shared pasts seemingly making their connection stronger, the desire more urgent. After a while, in which many laces had been undone – not fully, of course, but the intention was clearly there, Jon opened his mouth once more. "I have one more thing to tell you, Alanna."

"You know it won't affect my decision, Jon." She told him, "I want to be close to you no matter what."

He gave a wan grin at that. "I'll prefix it with a simple statement," he began. "I love you. I have since the moment I saw you, I believe. I'd say it was like a vision, but I don't think you'd believe that any more than I do. You were fighting in a cloud of dust with Arune, your hair was messed up, and I think your lip was bleeding. But I knew that you were something beautiful – someone that I wanted to _know_. When I met you, then, and began to get to know you, I knew that what I had felt was…" he trailed off. Obviously he'd thought of the beginning of this speech, but not the end. 

Fortunately, Alanna knew just what he meant. "You felt something in the other person that you knew was just _right._"

"Yes, I think." He laughed. "I've never been a good poet; and Gary can attest to that. I don't think I can really express it, but I knew that I loved you."

Alanna didn't reply to that, she knew she should tell him that she wanted to love him – though she felt she knew him, she still wanted a little more time to work through her feelings. "And the thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah, yes." He mumbled. "Well, I can tell you in one word; Delia."

"Delia?" she frowned, "What's that?"

"Who's that," Jon corrected, "And she is many things. She is mean, petty, empty-headed, influential, rich, attractive, was well liked by my mother, and;" he stopped, as if the next words were impossibly hard to say, "She is my betrothed."

**A/N** – Hmm, not sure how that last scene played out. Any comments?


	11. Acceptance, and Moving On

A/N – Okay…Big A/N For a big chapter [16,000+ words! Bigger than my first few Chapters combined!] ^_^

First things first – I'm amazed at the feedback for this! Thank you *so* much to **everyone** who reviewed! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story (all…erm…three or so Chapters left, anyway!). Please don't hesitate to critique it if you want to, either – as while it's not as fun to read as the "You're so cool!" ones (Hehe), they're useful as anything!

Like…Undiscovered_Actress did! And I'm very thankful for those comments, because it shows me where I'm going a little iffy. So, since she's been so great since the beginning in reviewing, I'll do my best to clarify the points she raised.

· Roger acts differently in this story because…well…he's already got what he wanted. He's 'let down his guard' because he's already got power. I'll be going into that a little later, in fact it's somewhat mentioned in this chapter (and your questioning prompted a longer look at that – so thanks! -_^)

· The Goddess in this story is a little more human, mainly for the ability to have snarky banter between Alanna and her. Also for something that's going to happen next chapter. Good that you recognized it, but…I'll deviate from Tammy's work on that one, thanks! ^_^

· And…as to the third, Alanna in the books doesn't really care that Jon's 'Royalty' until he actually asks her to Marry him. She's fine with being his friend, even his _lover_, but freaks out only when he asks her to marry her. I just kind of extended that, though as you'll (hopefully) see, she was still in a bit of shock at that time, so she wasn't really being **truly** expressive.

Anyway, that's those done. Or at least my lame arse attempt at justification, even ^_^

NOW THEN – Onto Chapter…eleven? I forget. Big Chapter, since it's been such a long time since I updated. Though that's not the only reason – as it's an incredibly **heavy** chapter, lots of dialogue. Lots of plot…lots of angst…I'm not sure exactly how it turned out, so I would be so incredibly thankful for anyone who reviews it! If it does get a little heavy going in places (Notably the 'all italic' bits), _please_ note that down too! Oh, it also took a while because I started another story. Please check it out too! /shameless plug.

**Warning – **As I mentioned at the beginning of this story, the **PG-13 Rating should be considered extremely tenuous**. This Chapter in particular is most definitely a **mature PG-13**. If you are easily offended, primarily by violence, a pinch of naughty language, and some rather throwaway references to sex (not that that's really offensive), please don't read it! Thanks! ^_^

Most of all, **Enjoy it!**

ARGH! Stupid Italics aren't working properly L If you see a paragraph which begins with and is mostly italicized, just imagine that _all_ of it is. Please? I don't want to look stupid…;)

***

With a gasp, Alanna awoke. The rain was heavier now, pounding into the window to her left in a staccato rhythm. 

Patterpatterpatterpatterpatterpatterpatter… 

It was, now that she was awake and conscious, almost a deafening sound. She was amazed that she hadn't been awoken before now by it. 

A tear fell from her eyelash, dropping onto the sheet in front of her. She watched the patch of wetness spreading into the fabric for a moment, slowly spreading out into the fibres from where it had originally fallen. Alanna, in that special kind of drowsiness that comes from awakening suddenly, thought that it was a lot like her current situation; a single event spreads further and further, a single bad decision, the way consequences of a single poor thought spread and multiplied – from their original position to, well, wherever the tear, wherever _she_ was now.

She shuddered a little. These were too deep thoughts for now. Another tear fell from her eye – she hadn't even recognized that she was crying, though she wasn't particularly surprised by it either. It's just that…

Standing up from off the bed, she grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around her naked body. She worried that perhaps it would wake George, and Goddess knows she didn't want to talk to him at the moment, maybe not even in the morning, but she simply was too tired, too weary at the moment to really care all that much. She wouldn't have the energy or the desire to lie to him at the moment, that was for certain, and she knew that she was going to have to lie in the morning. Lie like she had done tonight – or was it last night by now? Thankfully, when the sheet pulled off the bed, he stirred, but fell back to sleep again. 

With the sheet wrapped around her, she waddled over to the window, sitting on its frame. _Why_ had she done it? She couldn't even begin to understand. She'd been upset, yes, but that was an utterly pathetic justification for it. She'd made a bad mistake, a bad choice- this she knew already. But _why_? This she couldn't get a grasp on. Had it just been her loneliness? At what Jon had told her? Perhaps she had thought that no-one would ever want her; besides George that is, and she'd hung on to that hope? She clutched her head between her hands, shaking it from side to side as the incoherent thoughts ran through her mind. She had no idea why, should she even think about trying to justify it? Wasn't just admitting it was a horrible mistake enough? Enough for who, though – George or herself?

A tear fell rolled down her cheek again, and she could almost feel a painful need to break down, to start sobbing. But no, she'd at least hold up till tomorrow, till she would have to face George again.

Oh Goddess! 

How was she to explain this to George? Could she? Maybe it would be better to just disappear, to leave Corus for good. She could tell the Goddess what Jon had told her earlier about his uncle, and that'd be…it would be enough…it might have to be. But she couldn't leave, not now. She couldn't run away from her problems, what she'd done, she was Shang – and Shang fought. She would stay, face up to George and Jon both. 

Looking out the rain-streaked window, she sighed. She'd face up to them when she was able to, anyway, when she was less wretched. She was a horrible person, she knew that now; what she had done…

***

_"Delia?" she frowned, "What's that?"_

"Who's that," Jon corrected, "And she is many things. She is mean, petty, empty-headed, influential, rich, attractive, was well liked by my mother, and;" he stopped, as if the next words were impossibly hard to say, "She is my betrothed."

_Alanna…stopped. She froze, unable to really think at the moment, to comprehend. Did he just say…?_

_"Your what?" she managed to gasp out, after a while. What? She just- No. He couldn't have said…Could he?_

_He lowered his head, his stubbled chin resting against his chest. "She is my betrothed. The woman who, as per my mother's last wish, I am to marry." He kept his head down, as if afraid to look her in the eye._

_Not that she noticed; said eyes were at this moment blurry and unfocused – Alanna seemed to have just shut down. Apart from her brain, at least, which was running a mile a minute. His betrothed?! But why hadn't- What was she like? No! Not like that was important! Why had he not told her before?_

_"Why?" she whispered, not really noticing that she had said it, had spoken her thoughts. Her eyes were watering, she could tell._

_"Why what?" he replied softly, bringing her out of her painful reverie for the moment. With a supreme effort of will, she refused to let the tears fall. Later, perhaps, but not now. "Why am I to marry her?"_

_"Why didn't you tell me?" she replied, her voice growing harder._

_Jon glanced up at her, a small frown dancing across his features. "I'm telling you now." He began, softly. "I mean, yeah it's kind of-"_

_She raised her hand sharply, cutting him off. She had meant it to be an authoritative gesture – putting her in control of the conversation. She wasn't in the best frame of mind for that, however, and the hand was shaking in shock. "But-" she blinked hard for a moment, as if to purge her memory. Licking her lips, she stammered again; "But why didn't you tell me earlier?"_

_His frown deepened, and he shook his head softly._

_"You kissed me." She told him, hotly. "You held me; you said you loved me."_

_"I did;" Jon replied, "I do!"_

_"But you didn't bother to tell me before this that you are promised to another?"_

_"What? No! It's not like that, Alanna!" he reached an arm out to her, to place his hand on her knee._

_She crawled away from him; she didn't think she could be as close as she was to him right now. "Don't," she warned softly. "Don't touch me." She realised how that sounded, and tried to remove some of the venom from her voice. "I'm sorry. It's just- I can't handle that right now." She might not be feeling incredibly charitable towards him at this moment, but there was no point in being needlessly cruel._

_He nodded softly, almost pleadingly, "But Alanna, I meant those things I said, those things I did." She sat there, looking at him; he with his silvered tongue. "I meant every word, every touch."_

_Did he, though? She couldn't know. "But I had a right to know!" she argued, "Before I invested a part of myself in…in this fantasy." She trailed off. Alanna had realised just what this was, after all. _

_"It wasn't a fantasy, Alanna! It was real; I know it, and I know you felt it too."_

_It was a fantasy. She had expected him to be everything her fantasy man was – kind, gentle and deeply in love with her. Jon had seemed to be like this, at first, but now…He had lied to her earlier, about this – and about his heritage, too. But she had lied to him too, hadn't she?_

_Jon seemed to be thinking the same thing. "And you weren't being entirely forthcoming with your own past, Alanna!" It seemed as though he'd become desperate as she didn't answer, his frustration pouring out. "If I had known you were a noble before…"_

_"What?" she challenged, "What difference would that have made?" a tear fell from her eye, and she hated herself for it. At least her voice was still strong. "It would have made no difference, don't deny it." She added, in a tone that brooked no arguing._

_He grimaced. "Maybe not, but what diff-"_

_"I'm not going to get involved with someone if they're already betrothed!" Alanna seethed. "Especially not the King himself!" she almost kicked herself for forgetting that last part until now. She had been somewhat shocked by that, not as much as the betrothal comment, but still shocked. Of course, she could have dealt with that. Maybe. She clutched her head; it seemed that a new headache was flaring up, though she couldn't really be surprised at that. She was just so confused. "What did you expect me to do? Just be off to the side, to just occupy your interest when you're not doting on this, this;" she sneered, "Delia?"_

_"What?" Jon looked as if he'd been struck in the face; he looked so dumbfounded. "No! Of course not! I was going to-"_

_She careened over him, "Was George right in warning me off you? Are you just using me?"_

_"What? George said-?" He seemed to be as confused as she was, but was that a good sign or not? "Look, I didn't tell you because I didn't want to push you away. I thought it was an innocent little omission for the moment – and I did tell you!"_

_It was too much, too much. She couldn't handle it – not his excuses, not his justifications; she shook her head at him, and rose to her feet. "No-" How could he toy with her feelings so? "I just-" To make her feel so serene, so at ease, and then to yank it away with a single sentence. "I can't deal with this now." She mumbled to him, feeling an ache in her chest as his expression fell even further- No! She couldn't – Wouldn't! - sympathise with him at the moment, not now, not when she was still so upset and confused at what he had done to her._

_"Alanna!" he called after her, pushing off his knees. "Wait!"_

_She shook her head again, and backed away from him. "Not now, no." She turned, legs pumping, and began to run. Her thoughts kept up, tumbling through her head like barrels- each thought more painful and aggravating than the last. Was George right? Jon could have been using her all along; toying with her emotions with his seemingly sincere declarations of love and the like. What if he just wanted to use and then discard her? She reminded herself that she hadn't known him that long, after all – and while she felt that he wasn't, that he was sincere with what he had told her; and what she had felt from him, she wasn't really in a position to gauge his emotions correctly. Maybe he had been using her._

The thought sickened her, and a sob wracked itself from her chest as she ran. Tree's flashed past her, thinning out, until she realised that she probably wasn't in the small forested area any more. She slowed, gaping in breaths of air – not so much because she was exhausted from the run, but her lungs were burning regardless. Terraces surrounded her, small torches stuck in the ground; it appeared that this was quite a frequented area. She had no idea where she was, either. Maybe she should backtrack and hope to find the entrance to the tunnel again- but no. Jon had used his Gift to open that up, and she had no idea how to do likewise. And she didn't want to see him, not yet. It was still too…raw.

To her left, she noticed that the torches seemed to be organized in two rows- obviously this was a path, then. On a whim – because she certainly couldn't think straight at the moment, she tore off down the path, legs pumping again. Her feet struck something more solid than grass, and she realised she was probably on the pathway now. All she'd have to do was to follow it, and hopefully she'd be...away.

Thunder rumbled overhead, clouds crashed against each other. 

_She ran, ran along torchlit paths, past noblemen and women who stared at this 'commoner' as she sprinted past them, shocked whispers and gasps rising from behind her. She didn't care, she felt numb to the world. Even when the first drops of rain began to fall, she let them run down her face, the rain water mingling with the few tears which she couldn't stop from falling._

_"Oi!" a voice called from in front of her, snapping her back to the present. Her stride shortened, till her sprint was now only a slow jog, and she was able to take a good look at where she was. She was in a very well lit courtyard, the gates standing in front of her. She hadn't been into this one when she had come to the Palace yesterday, but she thought she recognized the area of Corus that lay outside them. "What'choo doin' 'ere?"_

_There was a guardsman standing beside the gate, holding a torch and calling out to her. Two other's stood behind him, hands on the hilts of their swords. She wondered whether she could run past them quickly; and began to speed up. The Guards were a little taken aback by this, wondering what kind of madwoman had snuck into the palace grounds, probably. She didn't really care._

"Mithros' Marbles! Stop 'er!" 

_The guard dropped his torch as she flew towards him, and attempted to wrench out his sword. She reached him as he was just beginning to pull it from its sheath, thankfully, and slammed her fist into his face before he could react. He dropped to the ground in a heap, his blood coating her hand. The other two guards swore, and tried to block her escape as well. One was still holding his torch, and she kicked it out of his grasp with a well placed flick of her leg; the motion continuing up into his shoulder, twisting him around. She pivoted, and flung her elbow into the other mans midriff as she did so. He doubled over, and she slammed the same elbow onto the top of his head, sending him to the ground. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that the other man was attempting to regain his balance, fumbling for his torch which had since spluttered out on the wet ground._

_She quickened her pace again, and disappeared through the Gates; finally emerging from the palace grounds. The rain stuck her hair to her face, long black strands falling across her cheeks, forehead and over her eyes. She tugged at it violently, jerking it away from her vision as she continued to run. Every now and then she'd slip, sliding to the ground in a heap, but she simply picked herself up again and continued running. She just wanted to tire herself out, to stop thinking once and for all._

_He had been using her. Telling her he loved her, holding her; it had all been a lie. He had no desire to be with her at all, except for lying with her. He hadn't told her he was betrothed so she wouldn't run away sooner. He'd gotten what he wanted, obviously, and he was done with her. The thought tore at her, making her feel painfully nauseous._

_Down the alleys and streets she swept, legs beginning to burn as she did so. Eventually, she would reach a familiar road, and began to slow. She came to a stop in front of the doorway to the Dancing Dove, and burst in without a second thought. She knew she would look like a drowned rat; cold, wet and weary, but she only wanted to sleep. To lie on her bed and try and forget everything that had happened today. She was tired, after all, though not really tired enough, in a way. _

_As the door slammed shut again behind her, she realised that most eyes in the room were now on her. It was so very much not what she needed, and she attempted to sidle away, to get up the stairs and into her room as soon as she could. She heard people whispering to each other now, probably about her, people who she had socialized with over the past few weeks. What they would be saying about her only the Gods knew, but she tried to block them out, tried to make herself believe that they weren't important right now._

_A hand fell onto her shoulder, a hand that felt as if it was a hot iron. She suddenly realised that she must be cold as ice; having been wearing fairly loose clothing before the rain began to fall. She turned to whoever it was who had grasped her, hoping that they'd leave her alone once they saw her haggard face. _

_"'Lanna? You alright?"_

_***_

She shivered. If only George hadn't honoured his word, if only he hadn't been at the Dove that night. _Last_ night. How things could have turned out differently; better perhaps? Time would tell the extent of her mistake.

***

"Lass?" he was looking at her intently, hazel eyes wide as if imploring her to tell him what was going on. "What's the matter?"

She knew that words should be coming from her mouth, she should tell him that nothing was the matter, to get him to leave her alone so she could be, well, alone. But it was hard, looking into his eyes like that. "I'm fine-" she eventually mumbled, shivering with the effort.

"You're obviously not fine, lass." He softly replied, running his hands over her shoulders to warm her. "But come on, come to the fire 'ere." He tried to lead her towards the roaring fire in the corner.

"No!" she exclaimed, pushing his arms away from her. She didn't want to stay down here, not with everyone looking and asking questions of her. She just wanted to go up to her bed. "I'm fine, George. Please."

He looked down at her, seeing something in her eyes. He gave a short nod, and steered her towards the stairs. "I want to know what's wrong, though." He whispered to her. "I'll not let y'go until y'tell me what 'appened."

"George," she softly replied, a tear falling down her cheek. Why now, damnit!? She hated herself for that small slip of concentration. Perhaps if she'd not…

_He raised his hand, wiping it away with his thumb. "Come on now, lass. Just let it out." _

_A small, loving smile stretched across his face, and she just cracked. She threw herself into his arms, and began babbling the painful thoughts that were in the forefront of her mind. She didn't know why she was saying some of the things, she didn't know them for truths yet, but it just felt so safe then; in the Dove, in his arms, that she let her guard down. "You were right, George." She sobbed, "He was using me. He-" The memory of the previous hour or two's events was still painful to her. She scrunched her eyes closed as she recited to George what had occurred. He continued to softly stroke her arms, trying to warm her up, and she was grateful for his support. "He held me, and told me that he loved me, but he- It was all lies. He was just playing with me. Toying with my feelings." Had he? She wasn't thinking straight, what was she say-_

_George's arms stiffened around her, and she could feel his jaw shifting as it rested on the top of her head. When he eventually spoke, it was in a deadly whisper. "Did 'e? I wish I weren't right, lass. I wish with all my 'eart." He stroked her back, attempting to comfort her. "I dun understand that boy, sometimes. I dun think that I'll be-" he cut off, and Alanna – in her vantage point of being turned into his chest – couldn't really see why. But after a moment, he tilted her face up to look at his own. "'Ere now lass, what say I take you upstairs? Away from this rabble."_

_Nodding stiffly, she let him lead her upstairs, questioning herself with every step. Did she believe what she'd told George? She must, at least on some level; besides, she reminded herself, she didn't even know Jon. How could she test his sincerity when she didn't even know him? Now George…_

_"In we go," she snapped back to reality as he opened her door with his free hand. He bumped her forward with his other hand at the small of her back, directing her to her bed. She sank down onto it, and a moment later she felt his weight dropping down beside her. "Now." He softly said to her, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ears, "What 'appened?"_

_Should she tell him? Wouldn't it be better just to get some rest, clear her thoughts with sleep? Maybe she could take some of Eleni's herbs and numb herself overnight. She'd be thinking more clearly in the morning, wouldn't she? But George was…well; he was just sitting there, watching her. She couldn't push him away again, not now. He wanted to help her, didn't he? She knew he cared for her, couldn't she just let him help her in this?_

_So, she told him. The dinner they shared, the small copse of trees in the palace grounds, the revelations each had shared with each other – though she left out one or two things in that. She trusted George, she did, but she had already been hurt once tonight after revealing too much; adding to that was not on her agenda. Then the final revelation, and Jon's insistences that what he had shared with her were what he felt. George was silent through the entire thing, simply holding her; being there for her. She had stopped the flow of tears by this point, no more drops were falling onto George's shirt now, and for that she was thankful, if nothing else._

_"So, that's what happened." She finished her tale, sadly, hoping George would be able to provide some answers. He did, after all, know more about Jon than she did. They sat in silence for a while, and she got increasingly restless. "I didn't want to believe it at first," she told him, "But maybe-"_

_"Did y'ask him why 'e didn't tell you earlier?" He asked her, and she shook her head. "Might 'e 'ave just been afraid t'tell you?" He sounded reluctant to be discussing this with her; which was understandable, she realised. Not the best topic to discuss with a man who has professed and – unlike Jon, she thought – at times shown that he was in love with her. _

_"I don't know." She answered after a beat. He could have, of course. But surely he wouldn't have let things progress as far as they did with something that large hanging between them. Did Jon say anything to George about his feelings for her- if he had any? It might make things a little clearer for her if he had done so. "Did Jon say anything to you?"_

_"About you?" George replied, to which she nodded softly. Sighing heavily, he added; "'E might 'ave said a word or two."_

_She waited. "And? What were they?"_

_"Just that-" he grimaced slightly, "Just that 'e didn't know 'ow 'e felt about you. That's all."_

_"What do you mean? George, please tell me if-"_

_"Lass, I dun know any more about what goes on in 'is 'ead." He placed a hand on her thigh, a gesture of support. "I just know that in the time I've known 'im, 'e ain't exactly been, y'know…"_

_"What?"_

_"With anyone. Seriously, I mean. Not that 'es lacked companionship at all, just that-" He gave her a tremulous smile, "Well, er, the specifics o' that dun be important. But that's what I was trying to tell you about, earlier. I was worried you might be-"_

_"Another one of his conquests?" she finished his thought softly, voice cracking as she mulled the idea over in her head. Could he have-?_

"Well, yeah."

_It was her turn to grimace; it was just all too much. Too much pain, too much confusion. Too much loneliness. She just let herself go, crumpling her face even further, letting tear tracks run down her cheeks – "Why, George?" she croaked. "Why me?"_

_"Lass," he engulfed her in his arms, and she cried into his shoulder. He sat quietly with her for a moment, before replying seriously; "You could sit 'ere all day wonderin' whether t'Gods 'ave a plan for everything, whether or not they know what's going t'occur every day, without coming up with any real answer. At t'end o' t'day, not one o' us down 'ere knows for sure." He stroked her hair, "T' way I see it? Things just 'appen, 'Lanna."_

_"Things just happen." She repeated._

_"Aye." He tilted her chin up so he could look down on her, staring at her with an impossibly intense gaze; "All we can do down 'ere is live our lives as best we can, and take what's thrown at us in stride."_

_She nodded, "Thanks." Sniffling slightly, she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand._

_"Don't mention it." George replied, "I just want what's best for you, Lass."_

_"I know." She told him seriously, "And I appreciate that."  George had been so supportive tonight, a rock of support for her to grasp hold of in her confusion and turmoil. Without him she might have fallen apart completely – she knew she shouldn't have let Jon get to her so much, if only…No. It was too late to think on 'What ifs?' now. She'd opened her heart to him, and he'd stepped on it – she had to live with her choice. As George had told her, Live her life and take it in stride. "More than I can say."_

_George gave her a loving look, a small smile on his face. "Anytime, 'Lanna." He rose to his feet. "I s'pose you'll be wanting some sleep tonight, then."_

_"At some point."_

_"I'll let you get on with that, then." He told her, starting towards the doorway. _

_She caught his hand in hers in a reflexive action. She didn't want him to go, not now. "George," she began softly, wondering over the words leaving her mouth. "I don't want to be alone tonight." She didn't, that was for certain. Alone with her thoughts, alone with the questioning of her actions – George's presence had seemed to ease those somewhat. What she had said earlier today – was it only today? It felt a lifetime ago – about knowing his feelings for her rang true, she reminded herself. She knew he loved her, and she cared for him too. Greatly. His actions tonight had created a link between them, she felt; or at least the creation of a debt she owed to him._

_George stood still for a moment, before he covered her hand with his. "Lass, I dun think that's such a good idea," He told her, "I dun think you're thinking particularly clearly at t'moment. Dun want you t'do anything you might regret later."_

_"I won't, don't worry." She responded, "George. Please, just – sit with me."_

_He gazed at her for a long moment; she could almost see the skeptical look melt from his eyes. Eventually, he nodded slightly, agreeing to her request. "Alright." He sat down again on the bed, sinking the mattress as he did so. She leant into him, resting her head against his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. He'd agreed to sit with her, at least. That was good – she didn't want to be alone. Things felt more…solid here._

_"Thanks, George." _

_He chuckled softly; she could feel the laughter rolling through his body. "That's t' second time you've thanked me tonight. Guess I must be doing something right."_

George continued to hold her as she ran the thoughts through her mind; it was a nice feeling. It was nice to know – in the face of what had happened earlier in the night – that George wasn't lying to her when he told her that he loved her. She believed him, believed in him. Something she hadn't really felt before now. His right hand toyed with her hair while his left was settled comfortably at her hip.

What swayed her in the end was remembering George's words – Things just happen. Well, why couldn't this 'just happen'? It felt right, so why shouldn't she do it? She knew George wouldn't object – or at least she thought he wouldn't, so there was really nothing stopping her. 

"George?" she whispered, pulling her head away from his shoulder. "Stay with me tonight?"

He frowned slightly. "What d'you mean, lass?"

This was the test, the big question. What did she mean by that? Was she just seeking to pacify her thoughts, or was it…comfort of another sort she was looking for? It was confusing, but she'd already gathered that by now – tonight had been all about confusion, after all. George had been so good about it, too – didn't he…? No, she couldn't do something of this order just to 'repay' him for his actions – but she had gained a new awareness of him tonight, hadn't she? Something she'd not seen before, the belief in him. "I love you, George." Did she? Did belief in someone – appreciation – equate to love? She wasn't sure, but it was something she wanted to see for herself. She'd denied herself love for so long, stretched for the dream – the dream which had tonight be trodden on quite thoroughly. She held his hand in her own, "Please, stay with me."

George's face was impassive, as near as she could tell. He was obviously thinking things over very carefully. That was good, she wouldn't have expected any less from him, but it's not what she needed from him now; something had to sway him, perhaps? Yes…She wet her lips, and quickly pressed them to his. As it had been the first time he kissed her, it wasn't fireworks – but it was loving and warm. She eventually pulled away, and looked up at him. He was breathing a little heavier now, which she took as a good sign, and his eyes were intently focused on her face. Reaching up with one of her hands, she traced the features on his face, his broken nose, his somewhat gaunt cheeks. He was a very handsome man, after all – though not quite as much as Jon was. Just thinking of his name made her stomach clench, but she ignored it, made it go away. That's what George was there for, helping her to get over him. "You say you love me, lass?" George asked softly. He sounded somewhat…hesitant. She didn't understand that; she'd told him she loved him. Was it the truth? Yes, it was. In a fashion, anyway. But that was enough, it was enough for now, enough for her. "Are you sure you're not just acting up from what happened tonight?"

That she could understand, it was true – again, in a fashion. But then again, maybe it wasn't? Maybe tonight had just cleared her mind of Jon, made her see George in a new light – her feelings for him simply became…more defined.

She nodded, flooding her voice with conviction. "I do love you, George. Tonight has something to do with what I'm saying, but..." she sighed, "I think it just cleared what I saw, cleared away the impossible. I'm seeing truthfully now, George, and all I see is you." She had made it sound so convincing too; she believed in it, knew it for truth.

George gave a small smile, "I- You dun know how happy that makes me to 'ear that from you, lass." He replied, before he kissed her thoroughly. She returned it eagerly, loosing herself in the moment – letting things 'just happen'. George brought his hands up to her face, this time, cupping her face in his hands. She ran her hands over his shoulders, dragging hands underneath his shirt, and she gently pushed him back onto the bed, rolling herself on top of him. His hands moved lower, running over her back and tugging at her shirt. This was what she wanted – being free of the questions in her mind. It was wonderful here.

It was what she wanted, wasn't it? 

***

No! 

She shook her head; utterly dejected. It had been a refuge for the night, yes – a comfort. But it had not been her choice to make to get there; she simply had used George horribly. She was an awful person, more so for the flimsy reasons she had crafted last night. Shaking her head, Alanna let another tear slip down her face. The situation had, of course, escalated dramatically – she could still feel his muscles shifting under his skin as they _comforted_ each other – but it had never been about love, she knew that now. Not from her, anyway. She had played on George's feelings to make herself feel better, something which now meant nothing, as she felt horrible for what she did to him.

The question she now faced was whether or not she could face him again – could she tell George this, or would she continue to lie?  She didn't know; despite the fact that she was thinking more clearly than she had been earlier in the night, she was still very tired. 

With a final look outside into the darkness, rain pounding the Dove's tiles, she slipped back into her bed. Carefully laying the sheet back over George, he didn't stir this time, she lay on the other side of the bed from him. That was what they'd be like from now on, she knew – a distance would be created between them because of what she'd done. It killed her to think of it; her mistake ruining her one true friendship she'd gained since coming to the city. 

Maybe things just did happen, but even then…! All choices, all things had consequences. She was just going to have to pay the price for her actions. Her eyes closed, tears still pricking at their corners. It had been a long night; hopefully tomorrow would be far brighter.

***

Flash.

_Her eyes opened in a vastly different room, stone walls and ceiling in place of the Dove's soft wood. Frowning, she sat up in her bed – not sure whether to be thankful or fearful that George was not next to her. A window to the right of her allowed the harsh light of midmorning to pour into the room, causing her to squint in discomfort._

_Where am I? She thought to herself in frustration; it wasn't bad enough that the previous night had been one of the most wretched in her life, now she was deposited in some strange land, too? It seemed somewhat familiar, though – like Raoul's room, the one she had changed in a few days previously. But how had she gotten into the palace? Without her awake- She was asleep, of course. This was a dream, one of those dreams. She had, after all, been a tad too preoccupied to swallow some of Eleni's potion before she had fallen asleep._

_This was all she needed. Strangely, however, she could not see her Fantasy Man – No! His name is Jon, and he is just that, a Fantasy. Don't think on it – so how would the dreams proceed as normal? Even the last dream she had had still had Jon in it; though it had also included…Thom._

_She shrugged. If the dreams were changing again, it might be for the best. She didn't feel like she could get any lower than hse already felt anyway – perhaps being gruesomely killed again would be somewhat good for her soul. Clambering out of the bed, she found a wardrobe in front of her, and quickly threw on some clothes. Oddly enough, the clothes seemed to be for a man, the cut and style a little different than the more delicate clothing she often wore, but she didn't consider it of any particular note. Seemingly as she popped in the last button, a heavy knock sounded at the door. _

_Frowning again, she made her way over to it, throwing it open with a wide sweep. Standing in the doorway was someone she had never met before, yet still felt surprisingly familiar – perhaps because he reminded her of Jon so much. The same coal black hair, same eyes and of a similar height, the man in front of her could have been a brother of her Fa- Of Jon. Or perhaps, her mind proffered, a Cousin? Was this Roger?_

Strangely enough he seemed to know her, at any rate. "Morning, Trebond." He all but spat, obviously this person – whoever it was, didn't like her all that much.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask the person who they were and how they knew her, but it was as if something had taken over her voice. "Why are you here?" she replied curtly, the words coming from her throat without prompting.

"So crass, Trebond?" the man replied, pushing his way into her room. "I thought they taught manners at the City of the Gods?"

What? She was entirely confused, but words she had no understanding of rose again. "They do, but we're only supposed to be courteous to humans." She replied, "I think they make an exception for animals that belong in a barn."

The man quirked an eyebrow at that, "Full of ourselves, aren't we?"

"Are we? I thought I was referring to you."  

_"Enough, boy." He replied to her. Her brow furrowed – boy? City of the Gods? Things came together in her mind, could it be that she was seeing the world through Thom's eyes? "I didn't come here to trade barbs with you. We do enough of that elsewhere, don't you think?"_

_She felt herself shrug. "Maybe. But again let me ask; why did you come here, Roger?" So it was him._

Roger smiled. "His Majesty asked me to come visit you, I'm afraid. He wanted us to, what was his term? Ah yes, reconcile our differences."

_She – Thom – scoffed. "You really expect me to believe that? Jon would never ask such a thing, and you know it as well as I."_

_"It was worth a try, was it not?" Roger gave her an oily look. "You do know Our King well, don't you? One would think you were his cousin, not I."_

_"I know him well enough," she – he - replied, anger boiling in her/his veins. Was it just Thom's hatred, though, or was she angry with this man too for what he had done to Jon? "I know that you'll never get what you want."_

_A black eyebrow curled up again, "And what, pray tell, do I 'want', young Trebond." She remained silent, glaring at this man; the one Jon had told her had killed his mother, if not his father too. The one who had killed Her? Thom, killed Thom – she frowned slightly, it was getting difficult to distinguish between her own thoughts and what she assumed were Thom's. Insight had begun to trickle into her; information Thom had been working on, finding out. She knew things she shouldn't possibly know about her brother – He had a fondness for Spiced Wine and black haired women, for example. Most pressing at the moment, she could feel, were memories of what he/she had discovered about Roger. Evidence... "Come now, boy. Speak your mind – we're both mature here, let's hear your take."_

_Thom/Alanna all but growled. "You want the throne." Alanna; or at least the part of Thom that was Alanna here in this dream, felt herself slipping away, becoming separate from Thom. She could almost see Him now, being different from Her. They were still one and the same, however, but it was as if another part of Thom had separated with her._

_Roger smirked, before he threw up his arms. Thom took a step back, creating a shield with his Gift quickly. Alanna, the tiny remnant of her consciousness that remained in Thom, almost retched. It had been almost eight years since she'd used her Gift; to feel it being wrenched out of him- Her! –in such a fashion both scared and intrigued her at the same time. But Roger just laughed softly at Thom's response; "Just a barrier against eavesdropping, Boy. Best to reign in that fiery streak of yours, might get you killed one day." His lip twitched at that last part, as if he knew something no-one else did. Thom was curious, Alanna was terrified – she knew what that meant. Roger had all but told Thom that he was planning to kill him!_

_"What can I say?" Thom replied coolly, "It runs in the family."_

_"I'll be sure to remember that," Roger noted, just as icy. "But for now – to address your…shall we say concerns?" He moved closer to Thom, pointing at him with a perfectly manicured finger. "You claim I want the Throne. You could not be more wrong. I want power."_

_"Isn't the throne power?" Thom asked. She knew that this was Thom personified; curious even in the face of great danger. _

_"It is a possible means to an ends," Roger agreed softly. "But it is not the only way to get what I want. And I have got what I want."_

_"How so?" Thom asked again._

_Roger merely chuckled. "I have said all I will say on the matter, fool boy. You wish to know the answer? Continue with your little investigations." Seeing the startled look on Thom's face, Roger continued. "Oh yes, I know about your little visits to my study. Very lax on the magical defences, young Trebond; I'd be careful of that if I were you."_

_"Nice of you to point that out to me." What was Thom doing? Alanna didn't know why he was still toying with the other man, a man who had come out and threatened Thom's life at least twice! She could still feel Thom, though. Feel his frustration and loathing of Roger – just as she could feel Thom drawing on his/her Gift. Again the feeling of having her Gift torn from her spread through her, and she could actually see Thom forming a spell. His anger, it seemed, had boiled over. She could feel his desire to show Roger just how strong he was, that he wasn't just 'the boy'. He was a Master, after all – the youngest ever. Their spell blasted Roger, the purple Trebond Gift spiraling towards Roger. _

_To their astonishment, the energies seemed to veer away, to be sucked into something Roger was carrying. They couldn't see it for the moment, couldn't see what had actually drawn the power, but he knew it was powerful. And that, she realised, meant that Thom would want to know what it was. She could feel Thom's interest being piqued almost immediately; just as she knew that this was the real reason Roger had come up here. Did Thom not see that? No, he did – she knew that – but…he was arrogant. Assured of himself, he knew he could best anything Roger could devise, it was a Challenge. Just as she challenged herself in her training every day, so too was this a challenge for Thom. The end prize, being the downfall of Roger, was merely a wonderful goal at the end of these challenges._

_But she knew the outcome. Thom had been bested – but how? And why was she being shown this?_

_It seemed at that moment that she was not supposed to know, or at least, to not know now. There was a feeling of something snapping, and she was suddenly herself again. She was Alanna entirely, not a part of Thom. It was a feeling she'd missed, to be honest. "Thom," she tried to shout as soon as she realised she could do so. "Thom!" But he did not hear her. How could he? He was just a reflection of the past, or something like that. Her foot caught in the carpet, and she glanced down. No, not the carpet, she was being tugged downwards through the floor – sucked down. She didn't fight it, and eventually she was pulled deeper and deeper through the castle, grey walls flashing past her as she sank through floor after floor. _

_Then it stopped, and she realised she was in a chamber deep within the palace. Right in front of her, however, stood a large bronze statue. It was of a man, standing over a fallen enemy. She frowned, what was this supposed to be? She tried to move a little closer to it, eyeing it steadily as she did so. It was certainly a statue, no doubt about that existed in her mind, but it still felt…alive…to her. She didn't understand that. Reaching out for the statue, she ran her hand along its cheek. _

_It was warm. She shuddered slightly; the unnaturalness of this was obvious. As her eyes left the bronzed man, the room began to dim. The torches were still burning, she could tell that, but it was as if the light they were emitting simply wasn't as bright. It was frightening, truth be told – to be in a room with an unnatural statue, a room which was becoming ever darker. She stood silently, what more could she do? Eventually, the darkness overcame her, and for a moment she could not perceive the outside world at all. It seemed even her breath had stopped…_

***

She jerked awake, almost seeming to sprain her neck in the process. A quick glance to her right told her that it was still early morning, the crisp light of dawn was still present – her Shang Hours remained in effect it seemed. More importantly for the moment, the glance told her that George was still asleep, arm clasped possessively about her waist. It seemed that he'd moved in his sleep, curling up against her a little more than she had intended. It was disconcerting, especially given what she felt about last night.

The memories of last night began to slink to the front of her mind, then. All the confusion, pain, frustration, loneliness, desperation – all the kinds of emotions that one should be loathe to feel began to crush her. She had to get out, away from this bed. At least she had an excuse; her missed training session the previous morning needed to be made up; and what better time than now? Subtly wriggling about, she managed to squirm out from George's hold, the only response from the Rogue being a small grunt as she left.

Sliding smoothly out of the bed, she quietly dressed. All the while, she kept an eye on George, praying silently that he would not wake until she was at least out of the room.

Alanna made her way down the stairs of the Dove, treading quietly on the floorboards. It was strange, she knew that no-one would have been able to hear if the boards did creak, but she felt it was appropriate to be stealthy. If nothing else, it would hone her skills, something that had been sorely neglected for the past few days.  Not only that, but the events of the previous night as well as the dream she had experienced made her incredibly tense; her nerves were on edge, and she didn't want to be surprised by anything.

She was surprisingly thankful for the dream. Not only had it not been a horrific nightmare as other's had been, though she was disturbed by Thom's actions, but it had given her something else to focus on. She could concentrate on deciphering its meaning rather than concentrate on how she would…fix things. What had the dream meant? She knew now, or at least she thought she knew, that Thom had been directly challenged by this Roger, and she now had an idea of _how_ he died. Roger had possessed something, an object of some kind, which had aroused Thom's attention. Thom must have snuck into Roger's study and stolen the item, which had then killed him. She remembered the words George had sent Liam regarding Thom's death all those months ago – _'Thom of Trebond was found to have died in an accident in his workshop in the Palace of Corus seven weeks ago. No suspicion of foul play…' _– it now seemed to make sense. Roger had killed Thom through Thom's own curiosity. 

It was, in a way that filled her with even more self-loathing, a plan she could respect. Playing on the weakness of the enemy was the central tenant of combat, after all, and this Roger had played it to perfection – albeit in a way which disgusted her. It was almost too simple; Thom would obviously have recognized it as a trap, but she knew he was always overconfident as a youth, and she had _felt_ it during the dream. He believed himself worthy to whatever challenge Roger could throw at him.

Emerging outside, she made her way around to the side of the building, finding her spot of cleared and tramped earth in the center of the alley to train upon. Warming up quickly, possibly too quickly, she began her first _kata_. Her mind cleared, focused, and she began to think more rationally for the first time in many an hour. The question of the dreams still nagged at her, however, and as she went through her exercises automatically she went over the issues again.

She had _felt_ Thom last night, just as she had heard him the previous night. How could that be? She still was no closer to figuring out how the dreams had begun in the first place, so going along with that line of thought wasn't likely to lead anywhere. Though…could Thom be causing them? From the Black Lord's Kingdom, or something? No, that didn't make sense – it did explain how she was able to hear and feel Thom, and to live his memories, but what about Jon? Why would Thom have sent her the images with Jon, and why would he have caused them to shift so that she was often brutally killed? She knew Thom would never have done something like that.

Not on purpose, at least. What if Thom had no control over it? 

Frowning, she clucked her tongue. No, she was grasping at straws. Thom couldn't have done it, at least not all of it. She felt that he was, however, somehow behind the last two dreams she had. To feel what Thom had felt, to live his memories, that could only have come through Thom. His warning to her the night before against fighting the shadow could also have been Thom's doing, though that was less concrete.

And what of the statue? A strange statue in the bowels of the castle that felt warm and unnatural? She had no answer for that, and no clue on a way to even begin thinking on it. It was, she decided, an important point, however. Something that would require more thought. For the moment, she decided while switching from kicking and punching _kata's_ to strengthening exercises, she would turn her attention to the…other pressing concern.

Her actions had been wrong, painful for all involved, and could lead to her winding up with none of the friends she had made while in Corus. She knew this, she could even begin to accept it. But could she _change_ it – that was the question. She would have to talk to George, she knew, but could she be up front? What if Jon had been using her? She still didn't really believe in his supposed sincerity; she had since realised that she had been blinded yesterday in believing most of what he told her - she _had_ only known him for two days. Could she so completely destroy George's heart when she didn't know more about Jon's actions? She did care for George, after all, and while she loathed herself for the way last night had progressed, it had been…nice, like so much else that George was. 

She supposed she was a trollop; thinking over things like this with her emotions detached, the hearts of two men possibly lying on her choices, but she supposed she deserved such treatment. She didn't think she'd ever forgive herself for that choice she had made last night, though perhaps she could learn to live with it. Firstly, however, she would have to talk to Jon. To not say a word about her choice to George until she had clarified Jon's position - Did he love her, or was he just using her? 

Slowing the _kata _to a halt, she squatted down to catch her breath. Questions would also have to be asked of _her. _For one, she would have to stop with the self-punishment, too. She didn't want to, it felt right to hate herself in that fashion, but it wasn't going to help her in any attempt to move on from this incident. As George himself had said last night, she just had to take things in stride. Wallowing in her pain, while it might feel the right thing to do, was not going to help her in accepting what she had done. Straightening her back, she realised just how important that decision had just been. It was not like her to wallow, it was not who she was. However comforting it had been so far, she would not simply allow things to pass her by; she would attempt to fix what she had done at all costs. That was who she was, she remembered that now – she would not simply lie down and let her misery overwhelm her.

A newfound determination spread through her, and a small smile spread onto her face for the first time in many hours. She would make things right.

***

After she had finished an incredibly vigorous training session, she began to make her way back into the Dove. Wiping her sweaty forehead with her shirt, she stopped suddenly as she heard something. Ears perked for any more noise; she slinked quietly around to the corner of her little alley, peering around for any sign of life. She supposed that she shouldn't be all that surprised; dawn had been a while ago, after all – even if the light _was_ still very dull. Her instincts had just flared up, maybe it would be best for her to just head back into the Dove, get some breakfast. Maybe Riven would be there, he always managed to perk her spirits up, and if she ever needed a spirit-perk, it was now.

But no- something was out there; a large dark shape that was thumping towards the stable door. Obviously a horse, then, she thought to herself, but who tries to stable a horse this early in the morning? It seemed that whoever the rider was had thought of this, opening the stable door himself and leading his horse in. She remained mostly out of sight, waiting till the rider emerged. She didn't have to wait long, and the man – for she could see his broad shoulders by now – hurried towards the main door of the Dove. He threw them open and raced inside without a second thought, or so it seemed. Alanna quietly followed, intrigued despite herself. 

The doors were still slightly open, and she peered very slightly about the sides of them. The main room was dark, so she couldn't actually see anything, but it enabled her to hear a little better, at least. At the moment, she could only hear a few distinct voices, one of them being Nelly's, bellowing orders out to those who worked for her. "Trist! Get those plates all washed up, y'hear? I don't want t'see a spot on 'em!", "I can still smell the burnt ones! Toss 'em outside as soon as they start smokin', alright?", "If you're not gonna help, Riven, get out!"

She grinned slightly, trust Riven to be in the way. She didn't hear Riven's reply, but from the stream of curses coming from Nelly, she didn't suppose it was any good. It seemed, however, that she was not the only one to her Riven's name, as someone called out for him. "Riven! Riven!" the voice was familiar, she wondered why she couldn't place it. Or perhaps, she thought as her stomach fell, she recognized it all to well. 

"'Ello, Johnny." Riven called out, confirming her suspicions. "What'choo doing 'ere so early?"

She couldn't catch Jon's immediate reply, and she tried to poke a little more of her head around the doorway, catching the last part; "…but that's not important. I came because I want to see Alanna." Alanna paled, "And I know she's here. But I don't know the room, can you-?"

"Oh, yeah!" Riven exclaimed, "that's fine. Just 'ang on fer a moment." She grimaced; Riven obviously didn't know what had happened last night, or she hoped he might have been a little less effusive. She considered going inside, confronting Jon here, but she knew it wouldn't do. She had to talk to him alone, not here. Besides, she didn't exactly have any idea of what she'd say right at this moment. Much to her dismay, it appeared that her newly discovered resolve was leaving her again. It was so much easier when she wasn't actually confronted by the problem. Maybe she should just live in that spot in the alley, she can be as steady as a rock. Well, as long as neither George nor Jon ventured down there. She shook her head, laughing softly at herself; she'd do it, she'd talk to him. Just not now…

She heard Riven calling to Jon now, heard the two of them moving away from her. The stairs creaked as they climbed them, and Alanna guessed that they'd probably be out of sight of the main room by now. Creeping silently forward, she squeezed through the doorway and made her way to the staircase. A few of the serving girls saw her, but they seemed to be the one's who disliked her, mainly, and so ignored her quite emphatically. At the moment, that suited her just fine. The voices at the top of the stairs getting quieter, and decided that she should probably hurry. So she crept up the stairway again, curling up on the top stair and peeking her head around the side of the wall. 

She almost had to throw herself backwards as a knee came careening violently towards her face. Pulling back as far as she could while still retaining her balance on the step, she just managed to avoid being kicked in the face. Looking up at the perpetrator, she realised it was Riven. He frowned down at her, his mouth open in shock. Jon's voice carried over from around the corner, "Are you alright, Riven?"

Eyes wide, she quickly placed a finger to her lips – hopefully Riven would recognise her point, and keep his mouth shut. He saw it, gave her a questioning glance, and then turned back around the corner. "What?" he called out, "Oh, no. All fine 'ere, just a girl down there caught m' attention. S'all." That seemed to placate Jon, who didn't reply. Riven nodded once back around the corner, and then made his way down the stair's. Or at least, he made it seem as if that's what he did – in fact he stood near Alanna, looking down on her. He opened his mouth, and she quickly repeated her earlier signal, finger over the mouth. Shaking his head, he mouthed _what are you doing?_

She shrugged her shoulders, what _was_ she doing? Eavesdropping? Jon wasn't going to find her in the room anyway…Her eyes widened at the thought; of course, he could find someone _else_ in there.

A rapping sound came from around the corner, Jon's voice following soon after. "Alanna? Are you in there?" She saw Riven glancing at her in confusion again, but she ignored him. Should she talk to Jon? She was anxious about talking to him, yes, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea about anything. Not that it _was_ the wrong idea, she reminded herself. Hearing a heavy sigh, she peered around the corner. Jon was raising his hand to knock again, "Alanna?"

She hoped George was a heavy sleeper.

"Alanna? Please talk to me." Jon kept his voice a little quieter now, but it still carried easily to her. She felt a pang of guilt, for her actions, for believing him, for avoiding him now – she wasn't sure exactly. She squelched it down; wasn't she supposed to have stopped that self-loathing thing by now? Of course, that didn't stop the thoughts from rising, she just had to ignore them, or work through them. As Jon raised his hand again to knock, the door swung open. 

From her position, she couldn't see much, but Jon was, to say the least, shocked. "George? What are you doing here?"

"Being woken up looks right." George's voice drawled from the doorway, icy cold. "And what're you doing 'ere?"

Jon frowned, "I came to see Alanna. Riven said this was her room, was he wrong? Maybe I should go down an-"

"Aye," George replied smoothly. "Riven told t'truth. This is 'er room."

"But what are you doing in there, dressed like…" Jon trailed off, and she could see his hands clenching by his sides. "What happened?" He asked firmly.

"What, after you broke 'er 'eart?" George shot back. She should get in there, break this up – this was not going to end well. "She came back 'ere and told me all 'bout it. And I 'elped 'er through it."

Jon seethed with rage; "What, out of the goodness of your heart? She told me how you warned her away from me!" he closed his eyes, probably attempting to gather his thoughts. "And I didn't break her heart. Not on purpose." He added, far more calmly.

"Aye? Why'd you not tell 'er earlier 'bout y'Betrothed?" George stepped out of the doorway now, and she could see why Jon was concerned. He was wrapped only in her bedsheet and pointing a finger at Jon's chest. "You wanted 'er as a plaything!"

"Are you mad? I would never do such a thing to her!" Jon's calmness evaporated as he hotly spat at George, "And what of you! Taking advantage of her – I thought you said you had feelings for her, well it's obvious that those feelings run very deep, isn't it Cooper? Bedding her the first chance you get!" They were yelling now, and she could hear that the main room of the Dove was getting restless as the loud voices drifted down. Thankfully, she thought, they probably couldn't hear what was being said. "What did you tell her George? That you'd help her through it all or something? Hold her in your arms and tell her that you'd always be there for her?" Jon was red faced, standing closer to George than he had been.

George narrowed his eyes. "You dun know t'first thing 'bout what 'appened last night." 

"And neither do you! What right do you have to question my motivations?" 

"She told me, she told me everything." George quietly replied, "I made m'own mind up 'bout what 'appened based on what she said."

Jon seemed to visibly calm down, controlling his anger once more. "Did you even try and look at it from my perspective, George?" he exclaimed, "We've been friends for years! Surely you know I'd never use her!"

"I only know what I've seen with m'own two eyes. And I 'avent seen you with being serious with many women before."

"So, what? You just assume that every girl I'm with is just a _plaything_?"

Things getting out of hand, she had to stop this. She had been somewhat reluctant to stop them when Jon was talking about his motivations for his actions; it allowed her to get a grasp on what he had thought without actually confronting him straight away, but now…She didn't want to be the reason the two of them strained their friendship. It was another thing she would have to fix, when she gathered her courage and began to address things. But how to stop it? The easiest way, of course, was the very last thing she wanted to do – but she had been trained to face the odd's as best she could. 

Standing smoothly, she stepped into the hallway. "Stop!"

The two of them turned to her, their faces showing their shock. Jon was the first to speak, hurrying towards her. "Alanna! Please, I just want to talk to you. I'm sorry for wh-"

She raised her hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "Jon, I'm sorry. Not today, not just yet. We will talk, I promise," as soon as she'd gathered her courage, "But not right now."

"But Alanna-!"

"Jon, please." The man seemed to be astonished by this turn of events, almost looking like he would begin to sulk. But eventually he nodded his head softly, face becoming a dejected mask. 

"Might be best if you leave 'ere, Jon." George spoke up, arms crossed across his chest. "Wait till t'lass wants t'see you."

Jon glared at the other man then, a glare that seemed to be made up of a great deal of loathing. "Think on what I said, George." He softly replied, "You don't want to be taking advantage of her, do you?"

"What makes you think I am?" George replied, coolly.

"Stop this!" She cried, "Stop it!" Her frustration at the two of them was now far outweighing her shame and self-loathing, however much she tried to push them away they still remained for the moment, and so she had no qualms about taking control. She grabbed Jon by the arm and looked him straight in the face. "I will talk to you soon. For now, please just go." Not waiting for his response, she made her way over to George, and pushed him back into her room. "You, get dressed." She told him before slamming the door shut. For a moment she leant against the door, eyes closed.

"Alanna, please. I just have to tell you something."

"Not now, Jon. Please. I can't handle things right at the moment – please just go."

He stood there quietly for a moment, weighing something up. Eventually he slowly made his way towards the stairs, turning back to her just as he did so. "Did you-?" he began, before stopping. She saw him give a quick glance at her door; she knew what he was thinking. "I-I don't understand." He added, before looking down at his feet.

"I don't either, Jon." She replied, bone-weary. "But please, just go."

Nodding, he gave her a small smile, and then disappeared from sight. She sighed, this was _not_ what she wanted at this moment; she knew she would have to talk to him, yes, but not so soon!

She made her way back to her room, and pushed the door open slowly. George sat on the bed, dressed in his breeches only. He smiled at her, but she didn't return it. "Are you alright, lass?" He asked.

"Not really." She replied sadly, "I didn't want to see him so soon." Well, it was the truth – if only half the reason why she wasn't feeling particularly alright. George put an arm around her shoulders, and she leant into him. What was this? She remembered the decision she had made earlier; to not talk to George about her feelings until she had clarified how Jon felt about her. How could she do such a thing? It was just cruel, to George and to herself. She had to talk to him about it, about her mistake. "George, I need to talk to you. About us-"

"Aye, lass." George cut in, squeezing her shoulders. "I know." She looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead. "I know."

"Last night was-"

"I said I know, lass." He sounded a little put out, now. "I know what you did, I know what I did. No use churnin' over it any more. We'll get by it."

She frowned, surely he couldn't think that it would be so simple? "But I-"

"_You_ did nothing," George replied. "_We_ did it. Both o' us. Don't blame yourself entirely, we both made…mistakes." 

Alanna wasn't sure if she agreed with that, but she didn't have the heart to argue with him now. 

***

The following week was a tenuous one for Alanna. She had often felt as if the day's were simply repeating themselves endlessly, although such a thing would be impossible. The conversation she had promised would occur with Jon never seemed to eventuate, with her loosing her nerve at some point before she set out for the palace. Once she actually managed to make the gates, but realised she still didn't know what she was going to say. 

Time with George was just as stressful. She had accepted what he had said, in that it was not just her mistake – that the both of them had given in to something they shouldn't have; her to a desire to be comforted in a time of pain regardless of the consequences, and he into his love for her, even if she had made it somewhat clear that she didn't know if they could work together. But she also knew that George was just attempting to make things easier for her. She appreciated the gesture, but it was unfair to the extreme – something that often seemed to characterize George's dealings with her. She'd never really been fair with him; but it was too late to change most of that. To an extent, she wasn't sure whether she _wanted _to change such a thing. However much she appreciated what George did for her, he still didn't make her feel as Jon did. 

George, while recognising that the night they shared was a mistake, did not give up attempting to win her over. He would kiss her as much as she would allow him, to show her that he remained attracted to her. He had even suggested a few times that she could join him in his bed, but she was adamant about not letting that happen again. Not until she had cleared things up entirely, with herself, George and Jon.

Thus the week had existed in a holding pattern; George repeating his love for her, and she being both fearful of this attention and angry at herself for not mustering the courage to talk to Jon. Of course, things had happened during this time; Raoul and Gary had come to visit her on the third day, though they skillfully avoided talking about Jon. She was pleased to note that Raoul had received word back from Lady Yves, and that the two of them were, as he put it, 'tentatively involved'. Riven had pestered her all week with questions, most of which were of a personal nature, but he always seemed to know when to let off. She was thankful for that, if not for his annoying presence. He said he'd stop if she taught him to fight like a Shang, but she doubted that spending _more_ time with him would cut down on his inane questions. Besides, it was fun to be able to hit him, softly of course, without any fear at all of him being able to really defend himself.

On the fourth day, she had become restless, staying in the Dove for most of the day, and had gone out – making a bead for Eleni's house. Thankfully it seemed George had not discussed the night the two of them had shared with his mother (she would have felt somewhat…disturbed…if he had, truthfully), so she was able to steer away from that topic of conversation much of the time. The two of them had continued their discussion in how a woman acted, Alanna most attentive. If nothing else, it allowed her to throw her energies elsewhere for the moment, and she had found herself strangely eager to know as much as she could about being feminine. She had purchased another two dresses, using up most of her Shang-given funds in the process, but she felt it was worth it. They hung in her closet now; besides the other one Eleni had 'given' to her. She wore it the next morning, for a while at least, until the stares she was getting forced her upstairs and out of it. George had seen her in it, and the look he gave her…well. It was somewhat scary, and not at all helpful in her trying to dissuade him from kissing her and asking her to lie with him again. 

She was a little wary of doing so, but eventually she began going out with George again, visiting the thieves and making sure that the Court of the Rogue operated smoothly. She'd met a few of them when she had first arrived here, when she had been meeting with some of George's contacts in the early stages of her inquiry. It was a little awkward being around him all the time, but it felt so good to be outside, doing something, that she fought the discomfort down.

And it was on one of these jobs that she found herself on the seventh night. George had received word that some of his thieves were thinking of breaking into a nobleman's house. There was nothing in itself wrong with that, they knew, but it was what they were supposedly planning to do which had George rushing to stop them. The small gang had recently been caught attempting to sneak into the palace. One of their number, who had killed a Guard during a scuffle, was ordered to be hung by one of Corus' Magistrates. The very noble whose house they were entering tonight. The news had trickled back to George through one of the groups' contacts only a few hours beforehand, and George had been forced to act as soon as he could. None of the Rogue's lieutenants had been present tonight, and so he had asked her to accompany him. 

"Are you sure this is the place?" She called across the small wall separating the two houses. "I mean, it doesn't _look_ like a manor house." She clambered over the wall, George helping her down. "I mean, could Pol be wrong?" Pol had been the 'contact' who had come to George earlier in the evening. He'd lead the two of them to the house the thieves were supposed to be breaking into, but had scampered off almost as soon as they'd realised that he'd indicated the house in front of them.

George shook his head, "Pol's been a friend for years now. Not saying I trust t' man," A smirk appeared, "But I dun think 'e was wrong on this. This is the 'ouse we're supposed to be at."

"The house the other's are supposed to be at too, then." She finished the thought. Frowning, she glanced around, "So where are they?"

"Lass, they're thieves." George spoke slowly, as if she was a child. "They're not gonna walk down t' middle o' t' road."

"So how are we going to stop them when we can't even see them?"

"We go in." her companion advised, "We go in and 'ave a look around. Maybe even do a bit o' work."

"Work?"

"Stealin', lass."

"Ah." She wasn't sure she wanted to be involved in that, not directly anyway, "Can you hold back on that? Just for tonight?"

Sighing, George nodded. "Alright, lass. For you."

She nodded her thanks, before motioning to the house in front of them. "We going in, then?"

"Aye." He stepped over to the doorway in silence, ducking back into the shadows as he did so. She followed in his steps, stepping just behind him into the shadow. Trying the doorknob, which wouldn't budge, he reached into his breeches, procuring a lock-pick. With seeming ease, he had the door open in moments, slipping through the open door as quickly and quietly as he could after ensuring no-one stood behind it. She followed, and the two of them found themselves in a lavish kitchen; two nicely finished wooden tables dominated the room, but a quick glance showed her that the rest of the room was finished in a similar style. "Looks like the Magistrate likes to put people off." George whispered. She found herself agreeing. Obviously the man had made the exterior of the house a lot more run down than the interior; it was a good tactic to ward off thieves – and showed that the Magistrate was far more pragmatic than most nobles.

"Smart." She verbally agreed with George.

He shrugged in response. "It's only s'posed t' be 'is local 'ouse, anyway. 'E's a very powerful man, 'e's got estates all over t' place."

"Should we really be in here, then?" She had a bad feeling about this.

George grinned at her. "Course we should. We're 'ere to 'elp 'im lass, remember that."

She couldn't disagree with that, at least. They remained in the kitchen for a while, before she spotted a staircase in an adjoining room. She pointed it out to George, and the two of them made their way towards it. Stealth remained the priority, here, so the two moved fairly slowly, eyes darting left and right. They climbed the stairs, thankful that the wood was well maintained – it didn't creak once, and they stepped onto the landing. A trail of a brownish substance led from the middle of the landing to a slightly ajar door to their left. George bent down to quietly examine the brown trail, swiping his finger across it before bringing the finger to his nose and smelling it. He shuddered, and stood up again. She shrugged her shoulders as George glanced at her, mouthing _What is it?_

He grimaced; _Blood._

She was beginning to like this less and less. It seemed that they'd probably been too late. George tilted his head towards the doorway, and she nodded. Making her way over towards it silently, she flexed and tensed her muscles. _Something_ was going to happen, she could just feel it. An itching in the back of her mind…

George, stood in front of the door, pressing his ear against it. After a few moments, he turned back to her and held up three fingers. Three that he could hear, anyway. He drew two of his knives softly, holding them tightly in his grip. He motioned that he'd go in first and she could follow – she wasn't sure she agreed with that; she was a fully trained Shang Warrior! She shook her head, but he ignored her, sidling into the room before she could stop him. _Fool man_. She quickly followed, not a step behind.

The doorway opened up into a fairly large bedroom, a large canopied bed sitting directly in the center of it. There was little other furniture, which made the room feel cavernous. Well, somewhat cavernous – there were four other people in here besides George and herself. Five, if you included the body on the bed. She wrinkled her nose, it was probably the magistrate, but she couldn't tell. It was wrapped in what were once white sheets, now stained dark with the man's blood.

"'Ello, Pilkar." George's voice was like steel from besides her. She focused her attention back to the four other people. Three of them looked fairly non-descript, a lot like the other Thieves she'd met in the Dove over the past month or so she'd been present there. But the third…he was different. For starters, he was carrying a sword, and her trained eye recognized that he probably knew how to wield it. His clothes were far more costly than those of his companions, and he seemed to be utterly at ease, even when two people – one of whom apparently recognized him – had just burst in on him murdering someone. "Fancy meeting you 'ere."

"George." The man gave him a small nod of recognition. He turned to her, then. "And who's this, George? She's far more appealing than your usual cronies, I'll give you that."

The Rogue's jaw clenched in anger, and she knew she was going to have to direct talk to the matter at hand. "Why did you kill him?" She asked this Pilkar, indicating the dead body.

He lazily swirled his sword around, "Because I wanted to, little girl."

"You dun think you're gonna get away with this, do you?" George retorted, "The Court'll 'ave you out in a flash! We dun condone murders of-" He cut off, blanching slightly, before softly adding "-this sort." 

"'This sort'?" Pinkar laughed, "George. Never known you to be so squeamish when a ladies about." She rolled her eyes. If they didn't stop with this ridiculous chatter, she'd make them both sorry. "And what do I care what the Court thinks? I haven't bothered with it in months, why would I start now? The man was in the way, so I removed him. You used to respect that kind of straight thinking, George. You've gone soft."

"I 'aven't," her friend replied, "I 'ave to look at t' bigger picture now."

The other man rolled his eyes. "Regardless, this isn't about you."

One of his companions began to finger his sword. "Uhh, boss. Achtully, ain't it all 'bout t' Rogue?"

"What?" Pilkar scowled at the man's interruption. "Oh, I suppose your right. Still, I _did_ have fun gutting that man. Maybe now they'll think twice about sentencing us thieves to death." He laughed suddenly, and Alanna got the feeling that the man was somewhat insane. "Not that I care a whit for the man who died. I was asked to do a job, and this was an easy cover."

"What do you mean?" She burst out. She was getting tired of this man's posturing; _get to the bloody point all ready!_

"Pretty thing, it's quite simple." He snapped his fingers, and the other three men drew their swords as if they were well-trained dogs. "I came to kill your Rogue here."

She stared at him, shocked. George too hadn't seemed to expect this, "You can't!" He spluttered, "You 'aven't called for a challenge t' my leadership!"

Pilkar stood silently for a moment, looking at George in disbelief. "So?" he eventually questioned.

"So it's not official!" George roared, "You're insane! Even if you manage t' pull it off, t' Court'll hunt you down and 'ave you gutted!"

"It's not _official_?!" The man stared at George as if her friend had grown a second head, "George, listen to yourself! You're not a thief, you're a bureaucrat!" He shook his head violently, "And besides, as said, what do I care for the Court? The man who's paying me doesn't care about it, and neither do I. We'll see the Court destroyed entirely, and I'll head up a new thieves guild – one which hasn't become the faithful hound of the King – so what do I care of the current one's inept rules?"

It was too much to take in, really. Someone _besides_ this lunatic wanted, no - had _paid_ for George to be killed? Someone wanted to remove the Court of the Rogue and establish another thieves body? And perhaps most importantly, someone else knew that Jon and George are – perhaps were – friends?

"Might want to say goodbye to your little friend, George." Pilkar gave her a lascivious smile, "But don't worry. We'll keep her alive for a while after you're gone. Might even have a little fun before we get down to business again."

George seemed to come out of his stupor at that, roaring as he launched one of his knives towards an opponent. He missed, but the man fell to the floor in panic anyway. She herself launched _herself_ towards another of the thieves; she'd not brought any weapons for fear of creating too much noise, but she herself was a weapon. Pounding her feet across the floor, she barreled into her opponent before he had managed to bring his sword around towards her. She felt his breath rushing over his shoulder as she winded him, bearing him to the floor with herself on top. His head cracked into the hard wood, and she saw his eyes close with a snap. She wasn't sure if he was dead, or if he were even unconscious, but she didn't think she'd have to deal with him for a while, at least. She pushed herself to her feet once more, and saw that George was fighting off the only other standing man, as well as Pilkar, who seemed to be jabbing indiscriminately into the fight. She gaped, obviously he didn't care if he injured his own fighter in the process! He really _was_ mad.

She heard a sound to her right, and noticed the man who had fallen when George had thrown a knife at him getting to his feet. She slinked over to him, coming up behind him, and crushed her elbow into the back of his head as he was straightening up. She thought about picking up the man's fallen sword, but was distracted as she heard a yelp of pain from the other side of the room. Quickly glancing across, she saw that George had been nicked by Pilkar's sword. She had to get that man away from the other two, and she couldn't be more pleased to be facing him. Not only had he tried to kill one of her best friends, but he had also implied that he would have had no qualms about raping her after George was gone. She was going to enjoy fighting this one, that was for certain. Raising her arm to strike him once she was close enough, she quickly directed a solid punch to the side of his temple. Unluckily for her, he chose that moment to rock to his right, her fist only grazing the side of his head.

With a curse, he spun around to face her, eyes still a little unfocused. "Little bitch!" he roared, before violently ripping his sword towards her. With a grunt of effort, she threw herself backwards, dodging the blade by scant inches. He danced forward again, blade flashing in a pattern she recognized. She skipped to her right, ducking slightly as the sword whistled over her head. As he extended over her, she lashed out with her left fist, punching him solidly in the gut. He grunted, but kept hold of his blade. "You're quick," he told her, "But you're not going to stand up to my sword forever."

"Care to make a wager on that?" She replied, softly.

Pilkar scoffed, "What, you think you can face my sword, when you don't have one yourself, and win?" 

"No," she grinned as she darted forward, kicking the man solidly in the knee. She heard a wet crunch, and her other leg flashed out, slamming into Pilkar's wrist and sending his sword flying. "Just that you weren't going to have a sword for too much longer."

He glared at her, breathing heavily. He rose to his feet slowly; at least he was dignified in defeat, she thought to herself. He wouldn't die on his knees – very much like…like a Knight. Good with a sword – using patterns she recognized, she thought with a gasp, from her fights with Alex, gallant in defeat and well spoken. Who _was_ this Pilkar? Once he was fully upright, he spat at her feet. "Little bitch."

"I believe you already covered that." She replied, snidely. She couldn't kill him when he was unarmed, she knew that. She could still see the face of that man she had killed in Isleton, sometimes – she didn't want to take a life when doing so was unnecessary. However much she wanted to grind this worthless worm into dust, and then burn the dust. 

Pilkar smirked at her, before he opened his mouth to lash her again with his tongue. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't even drawn breath before a hand gripped his head and a bloody knife drew itself across his throat. Blood bubbled from Pilkar's mouth and neck, and he gurgled as he dropped to the ground. She looked on, horrified, as his falling body revealed a very bloody George, who was breathing heavily and looking down at Pilkar's body. It was now he who spat at the ground, though this time the spittle landed on Pilkar's dying body. "Filth." He spat, before his gaze rose to meet her. "Lass, are you-?"

"I'm fine, George." She replied, automatically. "But why did you do that?"

"What, kill t' bastard?" she nodded, "Why shouldn't I? 'E threatened my life, threatened you, and threatened t' Court. I would 'ave been remiss in _not_ killing 'im."

"But-" she gaped, "Couldn't we have dragged him before a Mag…uh, another Magistrate? Gotten him locked up for killing this one?"

"Not 'ow t' Court operates, lass. You should know that by now." He shrugged, "Besides. Got nothing more than our words that 'e killed this guy. Not gonna 'old up."

She just shuddered, looking down once more at the fallen man's body. Frowning, she noticed that his lips were moving, as if he was trying to speak. She glanced at George quickly, before dropping to her knees and getting her ear as close as she could. She strained to hear what he was saying; it was almost impossibly faint. "His mouth…look in mouth…"

"Lass?"

"Shhh!" she whispered to George, "He's trying to say something!" She heard it again; "His mouth…mouth…" before Pilkar's breath escaped him for the last time. She slowly rose to her feet, now sickened by how close she just was to the man's death.

"Well?" George asked her from his new position over the other side of the room; he was…doing something with the other men who had been knocked out. "Did 'e say anything worthwhile?"

She frowned, wondering what he was doing. "Something about 'his mouth', that's all. George, what are you doing?"

"Whose mouth?" George asked.

"I don't know. Not his own. Maybe the Magistrates?" She moved over to George. "What are you-?"

He rose to his feet quickly, tucking something into his pockets. "Never mind, lass. Rogue business." He turned to her, grinning slightly. "Now let's go see 'bout this mouth, then." He strode over to the Magistrates body quickly, breezing past her and beginning to…unwrap…the Magistrates body. She glanced down at the mans body in front of her – now quite obviously dead. A glistening wet patch seemed to be present on the side of the mans head, though she couldn't quite make out why that should be. Something was…_Oh Goddess! His ear!_

She turned to George in shock, what he had done-! But she swallowed her anger when she saw the expression on her friends face. He held a page of white paper in his hands, a once crumpled page. Obviously it had been _this_ that was in the man's mouth. George was very pale, and staring down at the page as if something truly awful was on it. "George?" she asked softly. His eyes lifted, and met her own. The look she saw was one of…fear. "What is it?"

With a look of pain toward her, he looked down at the page once more. He sighed heavily, before he began to read. "'Wanted: One George Cooper for the murder of Duke Toromout, Chief Magistrate of Tortall. I, Jonathan of Conte, do hereby authorize the use of all force in apprehending this individual in the pursuit of justice.'"

"What?"

"Look f' yourself, lass." He handed it over to her with trembling hands. "And it's an official copy, it's got t' seal and everything."

She looked at it in disbelief; "But he _can't_ have done this!"

George just shook his head, "'E did. It's done." He glared down at Pilkar's corpse again, "Obviously 'e was trying to set me up, so that if 'e failed t' kill me, well." He gave a choked laugh, "I'd be dead anyway."

"No, George. We can get this revoked, tell them who the real killer is."

"Aye lass? Think they'll believe t' King o' Thieves?"

She saw his point, "But he _couldn't_ of done this! Why would he have?"

He looked at her, seriously. "Maybe 'e's trying t' get me out o' t' way."

Shaking her head in denial, she muttered "No" under her breath over and over again. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, she could reverse time and…do something. She wanted to scream in frustration – she had no idea of how or why this had happened! George was going to be hunted down like an animal with this warrant over his head! 

Thankfully for them both, however, she didn't scream. As the two of them stood silently in the room of death, they heard sounds of life from downstairs, the heavy wooden door slamming shut. The two of them glanced towards the door in surprise and fear. Suddenly, a voice echoed up the stairs. "Duke Toromout? We're from the Royal Guard, and we're to escort you to the Palace immediately. Hello?"

The Guard. She looked at George again, and met his eyes. "Do we fight, or do we run?" she asked softly. 

"We run."


	12. Running towards Reconcilliation

A/N – Okay, important authors note for the simple reason that I'm very worried about this chapter. I've (obviously!) spent a lot of time on this one, but I'm still not **totally** happy with the way it's turned out. I've gone over it with a fine toothed comb fairly extensively, but it still doesn't…click…for me. Maybe I'm just insane.

But anyway – I didn't want to keep revising it because, heck, it's been about a month since my last chapter went up, and I did want to keep the thing ticking over, after all. So – what I'm looking for is simple. I want reviews telling me how people think this chapter went. _Please_ don't worry about criticizing me for it – because I've probably thought harsher things myself! ^_^ I – in particular-  would like your thoughts on the scene with the Goddess, which is the one which took me the longest time. It's annoying, because it's so pivotal, but it's very very difficult to get it how I want it. *sigh*

This chapter is **long**, too, like the last one (actually a lot longer. I think that I'm going to have to set a cap on how long the next one can be before I even start the damn thing -_^) – so strap yourself in and (hopefully) you'll enjoy it. Read it, and then please get back to me on how you think it played out. Thanks!

***

The Guard. She looked at George again, and met his eyes. "Do we fight, or do we run?" she asked softly.

"We run."

She nodded; yes; it really was the only thing to do. She could tell now that there were a number of guardsmen down below, and while she was fairly certain she could escape relatively unharmed, she wasn't so sure about George. He still looked very ragged from their fight with Pilkar and his cronies, and she knew he couldn't stand against the Guard for as long as they'd need.

But then how long would he last at running from them?

At least, she told herself, he'd be running _away_ from the Guards; if he tired and fell while running away, that was infinitely more preferable to tiring and falling within a melee with Palace Guards. Running was the best option. Well, it seemed that way, anyway. Time would tell, she supposed – though time could also lead to George's apprehension and, presumably, death at…at Jon's hands.

How could he have done that? 

She didn't know, but she knew she was going to find out. Did she really believe that he'd done it, though? Regardless of what had happened in recent days, weeks; she still felt that she knew him. Well, ok – as George was fond of pointing out, she'd really only known Jon for a day. But – no, she'd known him for longer than that in the dreams, though she still wasn't sure if Jon _was_ her fantasy man, or whether the fantasy man just looked like Jon. She knew one thing, though, and that was that she'd eventually have to face Jon; though not for herself, but for George. Perhaps this was what she had needed all along, a push to get going. The life of a friend, someone closer than a friend, to get her to talk to Jon again. She bit her lip; he'd probably want to talk about what had happened the other night, too – when he had arrived early to the Dove and saw George exiting her chambers. Sighing, she regretted that decision more than _anything_, she realised that she didn't have _time_ at the moment to be regretting it, or to be thinking of much else. George was already looking around the room for a way out, and she should be helping him. He was standing in front of one of the window's, peering down out of it. 

She moved over to him, "Can we-?"

"Get out there?" he finished, and she nodded. "Possibly. I'm not sure. Not straight out, though."

Looking over his shoulder she too peered through the glass, taking in what she could in the dark. She supposed that it had been a long time since they had first arrived, for it was almost the black of night now – whereas it had been just before dusk when George had first picked the lock outside. Still, from what she could see now (which was not much), and from what she could remember of this side of the Magistrates House, it was…possible; possible that one could fall from their current position and not _definitely_ injure one's legs. Of course, she thought as she scrunched up her face, it was also certainly possible that they would anyway. What was the more disturbing, she thought with a grimace, was that she could not see the road from where they stood. It was dark, yes, but they should be able to see it – unless they were higher up than what she had first thought. Maybe the stairs they had climbed had been steeper than she had expected, or something. In fact…yes. She could dimly make out the roof of the next house along, which implied that indeed, they were particularly high up. Which was not good. Not good at all…

If only there was another way down, if only they could bypass th-

"Duke Toromout? Hello? Are you up there?"

No, they couldn't bypass the Guardsmen, especially since they were already coming up the staircase, heavy footfalls causing the old timber to creak and groan. They must be wearing heavy armour, she supposed.

"There!" George whispered from beside her, and she snapped her attention back to the window. "There!" He repeated, pointing wildly out of the window, to her left.  
"What?" she asked, confused. She was looking left, but she couldn't see anything.

George let a smile cross his face as he began to pull the window open. "A trellis." He told her quietly, "Just there. We'll be able t' get down easy now."

She wasn't sure about this; she couldn't see a _thing_ out there, let alone much of any apparently-present 'trellis'. Still…what choice did she have? Grabbing the window frame, she helped George lever the window open, almost falling backwards as it swung into the room on rusty hinges. The noise caused the both of them to wince, and in the following silence she could tell that the Guards had also heard; there were shushing sounds and queried 'what was that?' comments – they'd have to hurry.

"C'mon, lass!" her friend whispered, halfway out of the window already, "We 'ave t'get going!" She nodded, and took his offered hands, joining him in being half-in and half-out of the window. "Can y'see it?" he asked her, pointing once more towards the area where the trellis was supposed to be. Strangely enough, however, she now _could_ see something, a faint grey pattern – a cross hatch. It _was_ a trellis, vines growing up the sides of it and up the sides of the house. She just hadn't noticed it in the gloom, but George…George with his thievery-honed eyesight had spotted it easily. How strange to be thankful for that, she mused. Still, if it weren't for George, she'd probably have a broken ankle by now.

Of course, if it wasn't for George, she wouldn't be here in the first place, but it was best not to think about that. One could get into 'What ifs?" for hours, and she most certainly did not have hours right now. More like…seconds. Raised voices were coming from behind the door; the Guards were attempting to gain entry. "Let's go." She told George firmly. It was his turn to nod, his head lolling about for a moment in unrestrained agreement, and she watched as he smoothly swung out onto the trellis, latching on with both hands and feet before beginning his descent. She was surprised, for a moment – maybe George was in better shape than she had thought. Still, it wouldn't have been a good idea to face the Guards, regardless. 

She followed, curling a leg around the wooden lattice and finding a foothold quickly and silently. George was making a bit of noise from beneath her, but she supposed that couldn't be helped. She made perfectly sure to remain as silent as possible, however; a Shang's first lesson was to learn how to avoid battle when it was unnecessary, and this involved both alternative means of dispute resolution (or, as Liam had always said, 'to stop being so stubborn and bloody talk!') as well as stealth and hiding. There was no shame in it, only idiots fought when fighting was pointless.

A noise from above stopped her descent, and thankfully George did not call up to her. The muttered curses and sounds of George's climbing had ended a few moments before, and she had assumed that he had reached the ground. And the ground was not too far away from where she was now, if her recollection of the window's height was accurate, but whatever this distraction was, well. It was distracting her. 

A cry followed soon afterwards, from the room above. "By the Black God!" Obviously they'd gained entry to the room, and had seen the bodies scattered about.

She risked a glance upwards, tilting her head _very_ slowly until she could see upwards, in the direction of the open window.

"Royle!" came another cry, this one gurgling with either horror or desperation, "Order the men below to be on the watch! And bring up a torch!"

Sighing softly, Alanna began to slowly move downwards again. It didn't seem they'd noticed the open window, and with the Guards being apparently all the more watchful below, they'd have to be on their way as soon as would be possible. She had realised that it would have been better if they had closed the window – having it open strongly implied that someone had left through it, or had entered through it, and with the dead bodies and the dead magistrate, the Guards would find it certainly of interest – but again, that couldn't be helped now. Whatever cannot be changed must be dealt with, and Alanna knew that the best way to deal with that mistake would be to get away from the house as soon as possible. When the Guards decided to check the exterior of the house around the window, she and George had to be away from here. Away from the Guards and what they represented.

In her musings, Alanna had neglected to pay close attention to her feet; more specifically, in ensuring that they were properly positioned on the trellis as she made her way downwards. As she took her leg off a previously occupied portion of the lattice-work, it was not properly placed into the next one down – so distracted were her thoughts. The foot slipped, and she fumbled madly to get it back onto the wood, to get a foothold. Unfortunately, doing so caused a great deal of commotion, her leg flashing and crashing into the wooden trellis as she eventually managed to get her foot into position.

As the sounds died down, different sounds were heard from above her.

"What was that?"

"Something's out there! Maybe it's-"

"Look! The Window's open; obviously whoever did this is still out there!"

She cursed; this was not good. She had to get down now, "George!" she whispered, "Are you down there? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah!" His voice seemed to rise up towards her like a wisp of smoke, floating out of the darkness.

Swallowing, she peered down quickly. She could see him, and it wasn't all _that_ far to the ground. She could do this…"I'm going to drop down." She whispered harshly. "Try and grab me, or something. Just…" she didn't want to say it, because it sounded so _raw_, but…"cushion my fall somehow."

"Hey!" a voice called out from above her, spinning her head around, she noticed one of the Guards sticking his head out of the window. It was too dark to make out any details, but she could tell he was looking generally around in their direction. Of course, he couldn't see them – but he could probably _hear_ them. "Who's out there? You'll not get away, whoever you are!"

Alanna cursed again. "You ready?" she whispered below again.

She thought she could see George nodding below her. She gulped, and closed her eyes - it was now or never.

Letting go of the lattice, she fell – feet first – towards the ground that lay a good four metres below her. The feeling of weightlessness that she experienced in that short time was horrifying. It's not like she disliked heights, but she disliked _falling_ from heights. She supposed that was probably quite normal.

And with good reason, because it really _hurt_. 

George had attempted to hold his arms out to catch her, assuming that she'd be dropping backwards, or sidewards, or…something. Why she'd have done that was, well – it didn't make much sense to her, but it meant that Alanna fell directly through his open arms, her extended legs slamming feet first into the ground. The shock which traveled through her legs at that moment was absolutely agonising, the bones seeming to contract under the pressure. She fell forward instantly, thudding into the dusty road heavily, lip bleeding both from the impact with the ground and from her biting it in an effort to not scream. 

"By the Black God's balls!" George cursed, "Sorry lass! I thought y'd be falling flat."

"Why," she choked –her legs were _throbbing_. What if she'd broken something? – "Would I have done that?" she replied softly, attempting to push herself back to her feet. George slung an arm under her right shoulder, hoisting her up. As soon as weight was put onto her legs again, she buckled to the ground once more. _No, no, no…_

"Lass?" George whispered, "What's wrong?"

"My legs," she winced, "They did- I can't stand on them at the moment."

"_What?_"

She grimaced, "Just – grab my arm." She flung her arm up, and he grabbed it. She hauled herself to her feet again, and while the pain was immense, at least she was able to remain upright this time. Ok, so hopefully not broken, then. But still…"We have to get out of here," she told her companion, "and since I'm not going to be able to go as fast as I should, we'd best be getting gone right now."

Thankfully, George didn't argue. He nodded, and helped her shuffle away, arm around her shoulders. 

After a minute or two of this shuffling, they heard voices behind them, and George helped her into a small depression on the side of the road. After she was settled, he crouched in next to her. The Guards had come out of the front door, torches in hand lighting up their small patch of the city with a soft light. "Can anyone see anything?" the heard from one of the Guards, one who would be later confirmed as the Guards Captain. 

"Nothing, sir." Came the general reply.

The Captain cursed, and stood still for a moment, glancing up at the open window. He mumbled something to himself – Alanna wasn't near enough to hear what, precisely – before turning back to his cadre of Guardsmen. "We've got to find them, find who did…_that_. So let's fan out, two to a group, call out if you spot anything."

The Guardsmen broke up after that, each one taking a torch and his sword, pairs roaming the streets of Corus in an attempt to find the killers of Pilkar's gang and this Duke Toromout. Alanna wished they could just realise that the Magistrate had been killed by the other men in the room; and they had been killed in retribution for the act. It was so simple when you knew all the facts, but she supposed that was the point.

"Damn," she mumbled to George, "We've got to get out of here."

George nodded in agreement, "But with y'limping around like that, we'll not be getting anywhere in a 'urry."

She knew that, but he didn't have to make it sound so…raw. "Yes, I know. But I think I might be able to walk a little faster on it, now." She wasn't thinking that at all, but she _also_ knew that she didn't have much choice. It was feel pain in her leg now, or feel pain in her neck later when she was sentenced to death for a murder she hadn't committed.

"Y'sure?" 

No, but she couldn't tell him that, "Of course." She replied instead, "Now let's go." She was quite impressed in her ability to keep her face neutral, to keep the grimaces and wincing to a minimum as they moved. It had almost seemed that they'd escaped the Guardsmen, too, though this was not the case.

They'd just rounded the corner of an alley – George was leading them somewhere, she wasn't sure where exactly at the moment – when the light of a torch was seen splashing up against the wall. It appeared that they were just around the next corner, and from the way the voices seemed to be getting louder and louder, they appeared to be coming this way. She glanced up at George, who was wincing slightly. She mouthed the word 'What?" to him, to which he shrugged his shoulders, pointed back the way they came, and shrugged again. She didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but she supposed it was supposed to indicate that going back was a questionable move. But…what else could they do?

Apparently George had decided that he could take both of the Guardsmen out quickly and quietly, as he all but _dragged_ her to the wall with him. He pressed himself flat up against this wall, hoping that when the Guards rounded the next corner, he'd be able to get the jump on them before they had time to react. She frowned; this was not a good idea, but at the moment – she had no alternative. If her leg was up to a run, they could have gone back the way they came, but she supposed that they'd be either caught by this pair coming towards them now regardless, or that their being out once more on the main streets would increase the likelihood of another pairing finding them. At least here they had a chance; the cramped environment probably suited the two of them better. Well, one of them – she was in no shape to fight at the moment. Heck, she wasn't in much shape to be _standing_ properly; this leaning up against a wall shouldn't be feeling as good as it did right at the moment.

She snapped back to the situation at hand as the two Guards popped into view from around the corner. George was in action immediately, slamming the but of a dagger into the head of one. The clang of the metal on metal could probably be heard for miles around, which was not a good sign, but at least the Guard went down hard. The other Guard was grabbing for his sheathed sword while, at the same time, attempting to push his lit torch into George's face. The thief threw his head back, ducking under the mans thrust, but as a consequence lost his balance and fell onto his backside. 

Not good. George down on the ground, and a Royal Guard almost about to whip his sword out and call out for help. Not good.

Her legs throbbing in pain, she forced them forward, striding towards the Guard as quickly as they would take her. Thankfully, it was just fast enough, and as she first slammed her left hand down onto the hilt of the sheathed sword, stopping it from being drawn, her right hand formed a fist as it sharply jabbed into the mans face. He too crumpled, and she let him fall next to his partner. 

Taking a moment to regain both a breath and to rise above the pain in her legs again, she turned to George, who was just now raising himself off the ground. "What do we do with them?" she asked him. She literally had no idea – her mind was just too numb right now; the pain, the confusion and the tiredness combining to make her head swim. 

George rose to his feet, making his way over to her. He sighed heavily, "Leave 'em, I guess. We dun want t' kill 'em, since then we'd really be murderer's."

Alanna resisted the urge to remind him of Pilkar. She knew why he had done it, even if she didn't agree with his reasons. "Right. Yes, let's go." She frowned, "George, where are we going?"

He put an arm around her shoulders, she didn't know whether or not for help in walking or in…'companionship', and helped her move away from the unconscious Guards. He threw a look back to them every once and again, but they soon passed out of sight. A most welcome development, as far as she was concerned, and they eventually reached the end of the warren of alleys. Emerging onto a wide street, she was suddenly worried that they'd be caught – easier as it was in these wide public roads. She voiced her concerns to George, who chuckled. "Lass, dun worry. We're almost on t' other side o' t'city now."

She frowned, "Really?"

George nodded, "Really. That alley there is known as t' Thieves Road. Well, by us, anyway. It's a quick way o' getting from one place t' another without taking t' main roads."  
"Oh." She thought that was pretty neat, if a little worrying. But anyway – "So where are we going?" 

He grinned, "We're going t' a house around 'ere somewhere that I know of. Someplace safe from t' Guard. Someplace safe from Pilkar's sort."

"Your mothers?" she asked. They weren't _really_ anywhere near Eleni's, not that she could tell anyway, but it made sense to her.

But her friend shook his head, "No, no. Not my mothers."

"Why not?" It was a reasonable question; he'd told her before that he often hid out at his mothers place.

He quirked his lip, "Do y' really want t' know?" she nodded, "Because Jon knows where she lives, and 'e knows that I go there for refuge sometimes. And with what 'appened tonight with that warrant, well – I dun want t' risk it." 

Alanna grimaced. "You don't really-"

"What?" George interjected, "That 'e did it? I dun know lass, I didn't think so, but I also didn't think that 'e would do what 'e did t'you either."

She sighed at this; George may well harp on about what Jon had done to her, but _she_ was the one at fault. What about what she and George had done? What _she'd_ instigated, regardless of what George may well say. "George, I don't think that it's the best time to be jumping to conclusions about this."

"Maybe not," he agreed, "But at this time? There's not a lot much else we can do. It's not like we can stroll up t' t'palace and ask t' see t' king, oh and by-t'-by, I'm wanted for a murder I dun commit, though y' think I did." 

_No need to get sarcastic._ "I see your point," she told him "Although I don't think you're looking at this the right way."

"How-?" George stopped suddenly, and gestured to a door to his right. "'Ere we are. We can 'ide out 'ere for a while."

Alanna grimaced, the place looked tiny. This was going to be a most uncomfortable few days, or hours, or whatever. "Ok, great." George helped her lean up against the wall as he fumbled around in his pockets. Smiling, he finally produced a hoop with a large number of antiquated keys on them. Picking one of the keys out from the rest, he jammed it into the lock, turning it. Rusty tumblers seemed to fight the action, but the door eventually unlocked with a clunk. The door didn't open, but George made no move to push it wide. She frowned, "Well? Aren't we going in?"

He shook his head, "Not immediately, lass." He told her, before he brought his hands up to the sides of the door, searching his fingers along the edge of the wooden barrier. Eventually, after what seemed long minutes, he flicked long fingers into depressions and cracks, small clicks being his reward. "There we go," his voice was pleased, "No more nasty traps, or at least I 'ope not."

"That's not particularly comforting." She remarked.

George grinned, "Aye, I suppose it ain't. Still, we're thieves, what'd y' expect?" She just rolled her eyes, before staggering over to the door. He grasped her shoulders, stopping her from going any forward, "No, lass. I think I'll be going first."

"Why?"

He winked, "Just in case." Alanna maintained a stoic look, but inside she winced – George could well be doing this just because of her legs, which would make sense, but she had a feeling that it was more his feelings for her which made him want to go first. She couldn't live with herself if George fell because of her, _instead_ of her. Not that it was really just George; she hated anyone taking a blow for her, she could defend herself thank-you-very-much. Still…

"Ok, but only because of my current lack of mobility." She warned, "If I was fit, I'd leave you thrashed out here if you were _still_ attempting to keep me away from danger."

"Right. Wouldn't 'ave it any other way."

She raised an eyebrow, "You'd better mean that."

"O' course." George smirked at her, before turning back to the door. "O' course I do. I love y' just t' way y' are." Thankfully for his sake, he missed her slight grimace. Though maybe he turned for that very reason; recent conversations had made her believe that he knew that she didn't love him the way he wanted her to, the way he _deserved_ to be loved. She knew she should stop…leading him on, in some sense. Though was she? It seemed obvious that George didn't seem able to move on from her, although it _hadn't_ really been that long since she had made her feelings clear. Maybe she should give him time, give him space? She snorted, what a great time to think of that – just when they're more than likely to be holing up alone together in a very small abode for a few nights. 

Panicking suddenly, Alanna ferverantly hoped that George wouldn't be attempting to bed her again. He'd asked her over the past week one or two times, and it was a most horrific experience. For him, in attempting to cover up his hurt when she'd refuse, and for herself when she both had to refuse him, and where she was reminded of her most despicable decision. She still didn't know why she had slept with him, not really – although she had certainly realised that it involved her attempting to…_feel_ something other than pain. To sublimate the feelings of hurt Jon had induced in her into something else, something much more easy to comprehend. Of course, the pain which followed _after_ her actions, from both Jon and George's reactions, was almost _worse_.

Oh dear. What was she getting herself into?

"Lass?" George's voice brought her back to reality, "Are y' alright? You've been out o' it all night."

"What? Oh yeah, I'm just a little shaken by-" by what, exactly? Pilkar's death was shocking, as were his revelations. They were still…startlingly fresh in her mind, true, but it was that Royal Decree which still blazed away in her mind's eye. She forced a smile, "I'm fine."

He looked at her for a long moment, before nodding. "Come in then." She realised with a start that he'd already opened the door, and was waiting for her to follow him in.

She did so, her limp slightly less pronounced as it was before. Her legs still hurt, but she could force the pain down now; thankfully it appeared that not only was nothing broken, but there didn't appear to be any long term damage at all. Passing George as she moved, she looked around at the place. It really could only be considered…as a hovel. It was small and cramped, damp and – if she sniffed hard – quite an odorous place too. Still, at least George would feel a little safer here, and that's what she cared about. If she had to stay in here for a month just to save her friends life, she would. Well, maybe not a month…

"Not t' nicest o' places," George remarked from besides her, "But it'll do f' now. Until I can…" his small smile turned sour, "well. I dun know what I'm t' do yet, but I'll figure something out."

"George, " she began, turning towards him. "I was going to say this earlier; but I think it might be best if I go talk to Jon about this. Get it all straightened out at the source, y'know?" her eyes widened, "Not that I think Jon actually did this. Just that he's in the best position to fix it."

"What? Are y'- No, no lass, I dun think that's a very good idea at all."

She put her hands on her hips, "And why not?"

Tilting his head to the side, George grimaced. "Y'know why," he said to her, "it's not safe for y' t' be seen at t' palace. Someone might know y', and might associate y' with me. And its' not like y' can present yourself t' t'gates and ask t' see t' king, now, is it?"

She wasn't sure that he was telling her the whole story, but she supposed it would do. However, she'd thought of this herself – this problem. And it was a problem, "I suppose that Jon might want to see me, however." She told George, "So maybe if I ask to see him, he might allow me in."

George shook his head, "No, lass. That's not 'ow it works – especially not when 'e 'as reason t' believe that y' might be in on what 'appened tonight."

"But nothing did happen! Not what they're accusing you of, anyway." 

"True," he shrugged, "But we can't prove that."

"So we have to get Jon to revoke it, to show him the edict and ask him to…stop it. Cancel it."

George looked at her levelly for a moment, before he gave a soft laugh – a bitter laugh. "Y' dun think 'e did it, do y'?" he asked her.

"What kind of question is that?" she replied, hotly. "Of course I don't think he did it, not intentionally at least!"

"Oh, what? He just signed t' damn thing without looking at what 'e was doing?"

"No, not that – but what if someone forged it? What if it's not signed by Jon at all?" Things were falling into place; _of course!_

"What?" George obviously wasn't on the same page as she was, "Who'd risk 'is own death by forging t' Kings' signature just t' get rid o' me?"

"Roger." She stated simply. "Roger would, I know he would."

Her friend simply shook his head, "That 'e might do," he reluctantly agreed, "But I dun see why. Jon 'ad a reason t' do so, but wh-"

"What reason?" She felt she knew what George meant, but she couldn't believe that he'd lost so much faith in his friend – especially over _her_. She hoped she was wrong, that perhaps he knew something else she didn't.

George took in a breath, his expression uncomfortable. Eventually he spoke, whispering to her across the small room. "Ain't it obvious, lass?" he asked rhetorically, "'E's annoyed that 'e failed t'….y'know."

"To bed me?" She proffered coolly. 

"Aye, aye. He ended up pushing y' away; and I mean y' saw 'im that morning, when 'e came round t' t' Dove – 'e looked insane."

"He was angry. Confused." _Like I was._ "George, I don't know _how_ you can think this. He has been your friend for _years_. He was telling me about the things you did together, how much he had learnt from you – you should know him well enough by now to know that he'd _never_ do anything like this!"

"What, and y' do?" George spat back, "Lass! You've known 'im for like…a week! Less than that! 'Ow do y' know what 'es capable of?"

She grimaced; that was the truth. She didn't know Jon, not as well as she felt she did – not like how she felt on that first morning with him. But she knew his friends, the company he kept – and she knew that his friends; Raoul, Gary, Alex and even George himself, would not be the type to be friends with someone who acted like what George was implying. "I know he'd not do this." She replied, "I know he wouldn't order his friends death, regardless of circumstance."

"But you're not circumstance!" George said, "You're you."

She all but snapped; "Why does that mean anything?! Why should _I_ matter in this!? By the Goddess…" a sob wracked it's way out of her chest, this was the source of the pain she'd been feeling over the last few days, "I hate this!"

George scooted over to her, putting an arm tentatively around her shoulders. "Hate what, lass?" he asked softly.

"This whole situation!" she choked, "The fact that you and Jon are at each other's throats because of me, when I'm not worth it! I hate that I can't think straight when it comes to the both of you, that there's no answer which doesn't involve at least one of us having their heart broken."

Her friend simply sat with her in silence for a while, making soothing noises and rubbing her shoulders and back. She'd begun to cry on his shoulder after a while – just the last week or more of frustration and anger spilling out here in this dark hovel, the two of them hiding from what appeared to be the dangerously long arm of the other. George eventually brought a hand up to stroke her hair, his motions comforting. The silence was broken soon after by the Rogue; "That's life for y', lass." He told her, "Bad things happen. All we can do-"

"-Is take them in stride." She repeated his words from That Night, the night she had shared his bed. He had told her this then when she was still highly confused and afraid, that things just happened. Whether there was some greater plan or not, he didn't know, but he just took everything in stride. It was good advice, for the most part, though she did hold some hope that some greater plan existed, or that bad things could be _changed_. 

"Aye lass," he smiled at her. "That's right. Who knows if Jon and I would 'ave stayed friends anyway? Maybe y' just…pushed it along. I'll not deny that y' were a major part o' me and Jon's conflicts over t' past months – because that'd be a blatant lie. But it wasn't just one person, one thing. It was lots o' things, lass."

Alanna sniffled, "And the other thing?" 

"I can't say one ever recovers from pain," George continued, "Especially that o' t' 'eart. But y' learn t' live with it; co-exist with it. Like with Thom, for instance."

"What about him?"

"You miss 'im, right? Every day?"

She didn't know where he was going with this, but she answered. "Yes, every day."

"But it's not as…_intense _as when y' first 'eard o' t' news, right?" She frowned, and he seemed to understand that she didn't follow. "What I'm trying t' say is that while t' pain doesn't stop, and y' never forget it, or get over it – y' can learn t' live with it. Acknowledge it, accept it, and move on."

"I don't understand," she said simply; it was the truth, after all. "What does this have to do with…well, us?"

George sighed softly. "I guess, well, I'd hoped this could 'ave been done differently." He shifted so that he was looking straight towards her, taking her hands in his own. "Lass, what I mean is that _I've_ learned t' live with t' pain."

"What pain?" she whispered, getting more confused and more concerned by similar degrees. "Has someone died?"

He chuckled slightly, "No, lass." It had seemed to ease the tension somewhat, as he sighed heavily. He retained the slight smile as he looked into her eyes again, though it was one of self-pity more than anything else. "What I'm trying t' say is that…well…I know y' dun love me. I know this, and I can accept it; I can live with t' pain."

"George-"

"No, lass. Dun argue – I know y' better than y' know yourself, sometimes, and I know that y' dun 'ave feelings for me in that way, or that at least y' dun seem to be 'aving them at t' moment. I know y' 'ave feelings for Jon, whatever they may be."

He paused, and she realised he seemed to be asking her to answer the unspoken question. She wasn't altogether sure herself what her feelings for Jon were, but she owed George an answer – he deserved that at the least. This conversation must be torture for him; she knew his feelings for her, and she had _felt_ how consuming they were. But he was right; she didn't love him, not in the way he wanted and not in the way he deserved. The least he deserved at the moment was an answer, "I don't know what I feel for him." She told him, truthfully, "But I think that it's possible- That is to say, I think I may well love him. Possibly. I do know that I have feelings for him " She did, didn't she? Her heart still ached for Jon, this she knew, but she couldn't truthfully say one way or the other if she was still (or even was for the first time!) in love with the man. The air between them needed to be cleared, and cleared soon.

George closed his eyes softly – she could almost _see_ another wound being scored into his heart. But perhaps this was the right way to go about things; her actions to this point, in pussyfooting about the issue, had only lead to heartache and confusion. Perhaps honesty and being up-front was preferable. "I know y' dun love me," George repeated after he had composed himself, although his eyes remained closed, "but I do want y' t' know that I still love you. That I'm still _in_ love with you-."

"I know, George. I know."

"-So please note that I may we'll not be t' person in t' best position t' say this, but I dun believe Jon is good for you. I dun think 'e _deserves_ you."

"George-"

He held up his hands, "I know. It ain't really my business, I suppose." Alanna thought that wasn't necessarily true, though she didn't feel like correcting him. "But that's not t' point."

She waited, but he didn't reveal anything else. "Which is?"

"That I dun think y' should be going t' talk t' 'im. Not tonight, anyway. Not so soon." He swallowed, "It's too dangerous now, so soon after what 'appened. Best t' wait out 'ere for a while, I reckon."

She nodded, it was probably the sensible thing to do – Guards would be swarming the streets, especially if the Magistrate was a Duke, which was apparently the case. Best to wait out the initial furore, and await a time when she could make the trip in greater safety. Also without her limp, which was both a hamper on her speed and also something which could potentially get her killed. Yes – she should wait until her legs were healed up a little more than they were now.

Not that she was worried about Jon turning on her, having to fight her way out of his clutches, or some other similar scenario. Something which George was probably worried about – that Jon would take her away and lock her in the palace somewhere. She didn't believe Jon would turn on her in such a fashion, if at all, and she certainly didn't believe (or at least didn't _want_ to believe) that Jon had turned on George. But still; there were Guards around who were not privy to the knowledge she had about George and Jon – Guards who would try and stop her if they knew that they were to be looking for her. She supposed the Guards they had knocked out in Thieves Alley would have vague recollections about their attackers, so it was quite possible that the Guards would be on the lookout for a short dark-haired girl.

So; she would wait here with George for a day or two. With the man who had quite astutely just noted that she did not love him, and that in fact it was probable that she had been using him when they slept together scant days beforehand. She would apologise for her actions, of course, but would this ease George's heartache, or would it only make her feel better? _By Mithros, this was going to be uncomfortable._

***

"So what are y' going t' do?" Georges voice carried over to her from the other side of the room. "How are y' going t' get in?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I have one or two ideas." 

It was three days after they had arrived in the tiny house near Thieves Alley, three days of sheer torture. Psychologically, Alanna was exhausted – three days of treading lightly over the issue of George's feelings for her and her own feelings for both George and Jon. She'd had to endure another one of George's spiels about how Jon wasn't good enough for her yesterday, which was bad enough in and of itself, but George had also gone into excruciating detail about the girls he had seen Jon with in the past. Those who, as he said, Jon 'used and discarded'. She was quietly furious at the Rogue for doing this, for being so thorny, but she couldn't blame him really – not with what she had done herself and how she had treated George. Telling him to stop seemed beyond her. Physically, she was fine; more than fine. She was full of energy, which was surprising considering how little they had eaten, and her legs felt normal. In fact, she had managed a training session this morning, albeit one that had been performed in the cramped conditions of their little hovel. 

So she had decided that today was the day when she would go and speak to Jon. She was fit, she was capable, and more than anything else – she needed to get out of that place.

George shook his head in exasperation. The cabin fever and cramped conditions had soured his mood over the last few days, and he was particularly short tempered. With her own temper on a slow boil, tensions were high. "What are y' going t' do? Stand at t' gates and ask t' see t' King?"

She ignored the tone, keeping her back to him. "That was one possibility, though I doubt it would work."

"Damn right it wouldn't. Y' said it y'self; they could well be looking for y', and presenting y'self at t' gates ain't t' smartest thing t' do."

Sighing, Alanna tried to reign in her temper. What did he think she was, an idiot? She _did_ remember that she'd probably been seen quite clearly the other night with George, and she also could have been seen when she ran from the Palace grounds a week and a half ago, and that showing her face to the Guards wasn't particularly a good idea. "I know that." Her voice was chillingly neutral, "Which is why I've had to think of some other ways in."

"Aye? What – scaling t' bloody wall?"

"No, not_ scaling the bloody wall_." she whispered harshly to herself. Composing herself slightly, she tried to moderate her tone as she replied to his comment properly. "I know of another way in. A way which no-one knows about bar a few here and there."

She heard George moving behind her, and assumed that he was probably standing up. "Where?"

"The side passage. The one behind the rug; one Jon showed me the other day." She turned back to him then, seeing his stormy face looking at her warily. "I can get in there, and find my way to the palace proper."

George just shook his head, "Y' must be daft, lass. Y' can't get in there unless y' gifted; surely Jon told y' that."

"He did." She kept her answers short and to the point; easier that way. As she did so, she was wandering about the small building, collecting small bits and bobs which might be useful to her – a knife, a torch and a piece of flint. She missed her sword, but it was still wrapped up in the Dove, and she couldn't well return there at the moment.

George had been looking at her for a while, confusion drawn all over his features. "But then why would y' think o' going through there? Y' ain't got t' Gift." She gave him a level look, and after a moment a look of comprehension spread over his face. "Oh y' 'ave t' be kidding me. Another thing y' kept from me, aye?"

She groaned, "George, this wasn't important. I haven't used it in years, I don't _want_ to use it."

"Then _why_ are y' doing so? Why go through with this?"

"I have to, George." She told him softly, "I have to see him, and this is the safest way in." It was, that was the truth. She could get into the palace grounds without being seen, and then somehow – she hadn't quite worked this part out yet – make her way to Jon's rooms and talk to him there. What was worrying, however, was the fact that she wasn't exactly sure if she could use her Gift. What if it had atrophied? What if it didn't respond to her calling like it used to? What if she was stuck outside the entrance to the passage with no real way of gaining entrance? 

She banished such thoughts to the back of her mind – she _had_ to succeed. George's life, and quite possibly her own, rested upon her doing so. She wanted to tell George this, but she didn't think he'd have appreciated her telling him that his life lay balanced upon Jon's whim. It was harsh – at least to George it would be, but it was the truth. All George could have done would be to run, to hide from the Guards. Jon could at least call them off and stop this madness.

George sighed – shaking his head, "I know, lass. I know y' do. But y' best be careful."

"Of course." She replied, smiling slightly. It seemed that George had risen above the tension, and was at least wishing her the best. "I'll be back soon, don't worry."

"Oh, there's no need t' imagine that I won't be, lass." He replied, "I'll be worrying all right, but I think it'll be baseless."

"Huh?"

He grinned slightly, "I think you'll be fine, but it won't stop me from worrying." 

"Thanks. I think." Alanna gave George a small smile, before she ducked out the door and into the streets, heading roughly east.

***

She found it easily enough; it wasn't all that difficult either – especially since she remembered that it was so close to the wall. When she had reached the area in which Jon had taken her, she merely began following the Palace wall, eventually stumbling across the small shack across the way. After a glance at the top of the wall, as well as around at the people in the streets, she discreetly attempted to force the door open.

It didn't budge, and one or two people gave her a curious glance.

Alanna grimaced; she hadn't expected not even being able to get _into_ the shack in the first place! Maybe she would have problems with the ensorcelled doorway, but the front door?! _Oh dear_…

She took a step back away from it for a moment, looking back at it in scorn – _blasted door_. Maybe she could kick it down? Grimacing, she realised that doing so would have to be a last resort; not only would it create a lot of noise and draw undue attention to her, it might also cause the injuries to her legs to flare up again. No, best to have a look around first, see if there's another obvious way in. Nodding to herself, she made her way slowly around the edges of the shack, attempting to make it seem that she wasn't particularly interested in what she was looking at. Unfortunately, her search proved fruitless, with no other entryway being obvious to her cursory look around – there wasn't even a window. On the bright side, at least she didn't receive any more confused looks.

Finding herself back at the front doorway, she tried to push it open again, again to no avail. With a sigh of annoyance, she leant up against the door, aggravated both with the doorway for being so stubborn, herself for being so stupid in not even contemplating this as being a problem, and Jon for forcing her hand on the issue. She would have been _quite_ happy to wait another week before going to see him, but no! Now two lives possibly depended on her getting to him. 

Maybe George was right, she thought as she closed her eyes, maybe it is best not to see Jon. No – she couldn't believe that, _wouldn't_. But how else could she get in? Could she risk going to the gates and calling for Jon? Maybe she could call for Raoul or Gary, get them to ta-

"Need any help?"

Alannas' eyes shot open with an almost audible snap at the voice, one which seemed oddly familiar to her. She spun around quickly, instinctively bringing her hands up in a defensive position. When she saw who it was, she quite purposefully kept the hands up, although that might have been more from shock than any potential threat. The woman, the Goddess, was standing in front of her with a far-too-wide smile playing across her face. "What?" she asked, stupidly, after she managed to get her mouth working again (after it had fallen almost to the ground).

"I asked if you needed any help." The woman replied, "You looked like something was bothering you." She shrugged her shoulders, causing her long black hair to float about her face. For the first time, Alanna took a good look at the woman – and noticed that while the face and hair were still the same, the pure white dress which had been a fixture of the woman's attire had been changed to a more common brown, woolen dress. That was…odd.

"What are you wearing?" the words seemed to fly from Alanna's mouth before she realised, and she silently cursed at herself for the slip.

"What, this?" the Goddess replied, fingering the dress. "Oh, just something that I thought was quaint enough to allow me to fit in here a little better. Do you like it?"

Alanna frowned, _quaint_? But she nodded anyway. "Yes, it's very…nice." The Goddess smiled, "Anyway – why are you here? And why now?"

The woman shrugged again, "As I've said, twice already as a matter of fact, it looked like you needed some help. I thought I could help you."

Snorting, Alanna rolled her eyes. "Not likely, unless you happen to have the key to this door within that _quaint_ dress of yours." The Goddess simply smiled, and lifted a finger, pointing it at the door. Alanna moved away from it quickly, worrying that maybe the door might implode or something, but the sound of locks tumbling open was all that came from it. She stared at the door for a moment, still slightly worried that it would suddenly catch alight, or turn into a hedgehog or something. Hesitantly, she turned the battered handle, and the door swung open quietly. "Oh." She stated simply, slightly amazed by what had just happened. The nervousness eventually gave way to an amazing sense of relief; "Well then, who needs keys? I bet George would like you."

The smile remained affixed on the Goddess' face, "I bet he would too. How does that make you feel?"

Alanna frowned, "What?"

"How does the idea of George liking another woman make you feel?"

Who asks these kinds of questions? Alanna blinked – repeatedly – as she asked herself this very question. Repeatedly. Eventually, she moved into the small shack, hoping that the woman would skip off; she would have other, more important, things to do – wouldn't she? Unfortunately, the Goddess followed her in, closing the door behind her. Alanna groaned slightly, "Let me ask you this again, because I don't think you quite caught the indignation that first time. _What_?"

The smile disappeared, and the woman sighed heavily as she fell down into a dusty chair that lay about. "Alanna, I'm here to help you – and I do mean in more ways than just opening locked doors. I know that you've got a lot on your mind, and that George is one of those things-"

"At the moment?" Alanna interjected, "George is only a concern because I'm worried he might find himself suddenly headless one of these days."

"How would _that_ make you feel?"

"What kind of a question is that?" she shot back. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

"Bad, alright? I don't want it to happen because it would make me feel very, very bad."

"So you care for George."

Alanna simply stared at the sitting woman for a while in astonishment. How could this woman be the Goddess when her questions were so inane? "Well, yes – yes I do. Of course, I'd not like _anyone_ to find themselves suddenly headless, but George especially."

The woman made questioning sound, as if she were mulling this answer over. This was getting ridiculous; "And what about King Jonathon?"

"What about him?"

"Do you care for him?"

"Why are you asking me this? I don't want to divulge such things to people I hardly know; heck, I don't want to divulge it to people I know very well, or even-" she licked her lips as the thought came to her, but she dared not finish it.

Unfortunately, the other woman seemed to have suddenly become empathic, perking up in her chair; "Or even to yourself?"

Alanna ground her teeth together. "Why are you asking me this?" She repeated, hotly. Originally, she had hoped that maybe this woman was slightly more warm and approachable than the Goddess had been on previous occasions, but that hope seemed to be evaporating.

The woman stood suddenly, as suddenly as the white dress appeared on her body, a sharp scowl on her face completing the look Alanna had come to know too well. "I am asking you this, Alanna, because I worry for you. I have told you this many times, and it still appears yet to sink in – You were to be my chosen. You still could be, but I believe that you are neither ready nor willing to be such a thing;" she raised a hand to stop Alanna from adding her own thoughts, "Please, let me talk. You are bound to me, regardless. Your success is paramount in my own success; your success is important to the survival of life here as we know it - to prevent Chaos from coming again. Your actions are important, and for you to be slowed down by problems of the mind and the heart is simply not satisfactory when you consider the larger picture."

"_Not satisfactory?!_" Alanna squealed in outrage, "How dare you! This is important _to me_! It may not be taking into consideration the larger picture, but-" She stopped suddenly as her anger overwhelmed her and talking became too difficult. Her jaw locked and trembled, and her fists clenched in fury. "If I am so important," she eventually continued, whispering harshly, "Then you can damn well wait for me to deal with my own problems before I deal with anything else. Problems of the mind and heart, as you so _eloquently_ put it, are important to us mere mortals – you may not have to deal with them, but we do. We are _guided_ by the passions of our heart and mind, and if you can't understand that then maybe you should 'choose' some other girl. Someone as heartless as yourself perhaps!"

Only after the words had come from between her lips did Alanna realise what she was saying, and her eyes widened in horror as she heard the vitriolic words issuing forth. The horror quickly subsided, only for the panic to set in – who yells at a God? What was she _thinking_? Was she going to get a divine smiting? She cringed as the Goddess seemed to be mentally reviewing what Alanna had just said to her; _she's probably working out what kind of animal to turn me into. Please, not anything slimy!_ To her amazement, however, the woman simply shook her head and- wait, was she _chuckling_? Indeed she was, the woman soon began to laugh in earnest as she sank back down into her chair. Alanna wasn't sure whether to be relieved that she was still Alanna-shaped, or whether to be furious at having such treatment issued to her. In the end, she didn't have to decide, as the woman began speaking to herself. "It's funny how you forget how much fun mortals can be after a long time in the divine realms," she giggled, "I haven't been so chastised for centuries!"

"Uhh…Sorry." Alanna finally squeaked, wondering perhaps if she shouldn't have brought the woman's attention back onto her. At the moment, however, she was slightly more concerned over the Goddess' apparent sanity.

"Hmm? What? No, no – you're quite right. I was not looking at your actions as if you were a mortal, I was holding you up as another immortal, and becoming agitated because you didn't meet such standards." She sighed, "But as I said, you were right. You are a mortal – and it was my mistake to consider you as anything else, even if you do sometimes even amaze me with how far you have come."

Alanna blinked. This was…unexpected. Could it be that the Goddess wasn't quite so unfeeling as she had seemed before? 

"So I apologise Alanna; your problems are important, and it is best that you attempt to deal with them in your own time. Feel free to ask for help, however." The woman smiled at Alanna, and she – to her amazement – found herself smiling back. She didn't feel quite as agitated around the woman as she had done in the past; maybe it was the realization that God's could make mistakes as well which made the Goddess easier to deal with. "Nevertheless," The Goddess continued, "They do pale in comparison to the wider picture. I won't make you abandon or ignore your own problems for the sake of the world, but I will ask that you consider other issues as being perhaps as pressing and important as they are."

"I suppose I can go along with that," Alanna remarked, amazed, "And I take it these 'problems' tie in with what you have told me previously?"

"About the Queen of Chaos? Yes, that's indeed what they tie into. Her and her pawn."

Her pawn. A twist of memory stirred with Alanna's mind, "Oh!" she gushed, remembering something of note "You once said that the Chaos Queen's, or whatever, pawn was the one who killed Thom, right?" The woman nodded, "Then I think I might have a name for you."

"Who?"

"Roger of Conte. Jon was telling me that he was almost certain that he was behind Thom's death, and then-"

The Goddess frowned as Alanna suddenly stopped talking. "And then what?"

Alanna sighed; could she tell this woman? She was the Goddess, she had come to accept that over the past few months, but…these were _very_ personal, and she didn't quite understand them herself. Though perhaps the woman would be able to help her in this regard; especially considering her _very_ recent apologies and revelations. It couldn't really hurt to try, could it? "Do you remember the first time you appeared to me?" she asked by way of introduction. The woman nodded, and Alanna continued. "Do you remember how I asked if you had been putting dreams into my head?"

"Yes. Does this – these dreams, have anything to do with this Roger of Conte?"

She grimaced, "Sort of. I started to have these dreams that very same night I met you, dreams about…someone in particular, though not Roger or Thom." She'd be damned if she was going to tell the Goddess about her dreams about Jon, "And these underwent a number of, well, phases I guess you could say."

"What do you mean?" 

"Just – At first they were very _good_ dreams, enjoyable. Then they became nightmares, though I knew that they were…corrupted you could say – that they were still the same dreams, but bad where they used to be good. And then a few nights ago, I dreamt again. But this one was very different; vivid as the others, yes, but its subject matter was far different. This one seemed to be a memory of Thom's; I was _playing_ Thom in the dream, from his point of view. It was him and Roger having a confrontation, and it was pretty obvious that they hated each other. Roger basically threatened Thom as well."

"So you believe that this indicates that Roger was behind the killing?"

"Given the impression I got, and from what Jon had told me about Roger beforehand, I'd say that I'm _fairly_ positive."

The woman sat back in her chair, tapping a finger on her perfect lips as she thought. "Was there anything else in this dream?"

Alanna shrugged, "Not really. It ended with me in front of this weird statue, but apart from that." That was strange, but she still had no answers for it; she had planned to ask Jon about it, actually. "What I don't understand, though, is _how_ could have experienced one of Thom's memories; and one from a few months ago at that!"

"It's possible that- No…"

"What?" Alanna asked, confused by the reaction.

Sighing, the Goddess almost shrugged her shoulders. "I don't have an answer for you. I would have said that it's possible that Thom might still be alive, which could account for it, but I would have felt it if he were. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

No, she _really_ shouldn't have. The very notion that Thom _might possibly_ be alive had sent shivers up her spine. Could it be…? No, the Goddess would have felt it; although she couldn't necessarily count upon the Goddess to know everything – Alanna herself had witnessed that this very hour. Dare she hope that her brother might be alive? She sighed, no – she couldn't, she mustn't. It wasn't worth the pain to hold onto an impossible hope, she had to push the thought away, focus on something else. "So are you going to do anything about Roger?" she asked.

"Hmm? What? Oh right, Roger of Conte." She nodded, as if coming to a decision just then. "At the moment? No, not really. I will need more proof than just a hunch on your part-"

"A hunch? It's not a hunch!"

"Well, yes. That may well be – but I'll need something a little more concrete than dreams and supposition. I'm sorry; you have done a marvelous effort so far, especially in light of any other extenuating circumstances, but I need something to break the veil."

"What?" Alanna frowned, _what veil?_

 "Remember how I told you that I cannot view Her pawn? That it is hidden from me?" Alanna nodded, "That is the Queen of Chaos' doing – her spell blinds the Gods. Once irrefutable proof has been found to link Her to a mortal – which is forbidden under the terms of her imprisonment – her spell will be broken, and all Gods will see the truth. So you see, I need something to break this link, to lift the veil."

Alanna groaned, "Where am I supposed to find such proof?"

The Goddess smiled, "Thank you – I had hoped you'd be willing to continue in this." Alanna wasn't quite sure if she was being sincere or not, "But I really have no idea. I would suggest that such a piece of evidence would be kept close to Roger, so perhaps a little visit to the man himself may be in order. I will tell you that if you find it, I will know, and I will ensure that you will know." She stood, and Alanna followed suit. "Now, I must say that this has been a most enlightening conversation we have had. I should do well to thank you for it, Alanna."

"Uh, that's alright."

"Do you need any help with anything else?"

"No, that's alright," Alanna replied, force of habit more than anything else letting the words trickle out. After they had escaped her, however, she realised that in fact she really _could_ use the help; and putting aside her qualms at asking for said help, decided that the Goddess would be one of the best possible…people?…on the face of the earth to help her. Looking up, she realised the Goddess appeared to be shimmering slightly, as if she was becoming less corporeal. "Wait! No, actually – I do. I actually came here for a reason, this shack I mean."

"I'd hope so," The Goddess murmured, solidifying once more, "Since it's not the kind of place I'd really have enjoyed staying in for any length of time." To punctuate her remark, she ran a finger along the arm of her chair, gray dust coating the tip.

"You should see where me and George are at the moment." Alanna joked, "Uh, but that's not important – There's a passageway here that leads into the castle, an ensorcelled gateway that Jon and I used a few days ago. I had come here to use it, but I-I don't really know…well…_how_ to use it, and I'm not sure if my Gift will even…"

"Work any more?" The Goddess offered, and Alanna nodded. "I see. It will, don't worry about that – one's Gift will not die out with time." _That was a relief,_ "And I must say, it's good to see that you've accepted that part of yourself now, Alanna."

"What? No, I haven't, not really. I don't want to use it, but it looked like I had to." She grinned, "But now that you're here, you can just remove the spell yourself."

The Goddess looked at her for a long while; a distressingly measuring gaze, or so Alanna thought as she shifted uncomfortably under it. Eventually, however, a smile spread across the woman's face. "No."

Alanna frowned "No?"

"I will not do this for you. I'll help _you _to do it, but I will not open the gateway entirely on my own."

"W-why not?" Alanna licked her lips nervously. _Damn!_ "Please?"

"Alanna, I will not do this for you. I want you to use your Gift, I want you to recognise that it _is_ a Gift. You've been treating it like a curse; a disease which someone gave you before you were able to stop them. You _have_ to accept it as being part of you, and of it being a rare and powerful Gift which has been granted to you."

Alanna grunted sourly. "But it'll take me hours to get it done, then!"

The Goddess scowled at her; "I may have admitted that I have made mistakes in how I deal with you, Alanna, but I will not tolerate such petulance." Alanna gulped, but stopped herself from apologizing. She kept that much dignity, at least. The other woman sighed softly, watching Alanna with sharp eyes. "But do not worry. As I said, I will help you, guide you; I wish for you to reach your full potential, and I will help you directly here. Other times, however…"

Turning away for a moment, Alanna mulled over the Goddess' motivations. Just this once she'd be helping her; that made sense; after all she wouldn't want Alanna to become dependant upon her help. Alanna of course knew that she would never become so dependent anyway, but it would be best to remove the temptation. And she _was_ going to help today…why? 

"You'll help me?" The other woman nodded slightly, "Why?"

"I have already said," The Goddess responded, appearing to be somewhat vexed, "I wish for you to reach your potential – to accept your Gift. I recognise that it may be difficult for you to do so with such an untamed Gift, and thus I will help you."

Alanna wasn't overly sure about this, but she supposed that it was something good. After all, she'd planned to use her Gift here anyway, although she had no real knowledge of how to do so – having aid in this could only be good. She nodded, "Right. Well," fumbling for something to say, Alanna nodded in acceptance. "Thanks, I guess."

"Please don't sound _too_ enthused, Alanna."

She blushed, "Sorry. I am thankful, I am, but-"

"But that does not mean you are no longer uncomfortable with it, I understand." The Goddess replied. Alanna was slightly bemused by the fact that this woman was all of a sudden so very accommodating to her feelings, the way she thought of things. It was funny, in a strange sort of way, that the woman who had originally seemed so off putting and _perfect_ now could understand the way Alanna herself felt, in her so very not-at-all-perfect way of living. "Shall we begin?"

"Oh. Uh, sure."

The Goddess rose smoothly off the dusty chair – Alanna noted that it did not appear that a single speck of dust had actually been disturbed by the woman's presence – and all but glided towards the hanging throw rug that Jon had pointed out to Alanna that night a week and a half ago. That was odd; she hadn't pointed it out to her- "It is over here, correct?" the woman asked as she turned back to Alanna.

"How did-" She frowned, "Can you feel it?"

The Goddess nodded. "Oh yes. It's quite well hidden, I'll give the sorcerer who enchanted it that, but it's not perfect; I can sense the residue." She waved a hand around in front of the rug, as if pushing it through water. "You can feel it, see it – come over here and try it."

She wasn't sure; she hadn't used her Gift in almost eight years, how could she be expected to 'sense' with it on her first try? But she walked on over anyway. It would do no good to hinder the process, she had to try with all her strength to get this to work and work quickly. Standing in front of the rug, she paused for a moment. What exactly was she supposed to be doing? Wave her hands around? Maybe she should stick her tongue out…

The Goddess seemed to pick up on her confusion, "Do you remember how to reach for the Gift?"

Alanna did, or at least she thought she did. "Maude used to tell us to reach into ourselves, to find our own center and grab hold of the fire there." She closed her eyes, visualizing what she used to do, reaching for the fire within her.

"That's about it," the Goddess' voice floated into her awareness – she was concentrating hard now, attempting to reach, to _stretch_ and find the amethyst fire that used to be so readily available. "The Gift doesn't really sit anywhere in particular, it permeates your entire being, but finding a 'center' is akin to reaching a heightened state from which you can manipulate and guide it's energies."

Alanna didn't understand that at all, but she was barely registering the Goddess' voice anyway. She was focusing inwards, attempting to find this center again. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, searching incessantly (as she was) to gain hold once more of the power she possessed, or at least used to posses. Such a thought raced through her consciousness, bringing forth images and memories of her childhood with Thom. Creating ethereal tigers with their combined Gifts to scare the cooks, chasing away their aunt with phantom sounds and images. Her power had been strong; with Thom it had been almost boundless – Maude had always refused to teach the two of them together, probably out of a forlorn hope that they would never use their powers together in such a mischievous fashion, but Thom had learnt to link himself with Alanna early on, and the two of them combined often.

The memories caused her to question herself. Why was she so uncomfortable with her Gift? Was it something that had just developed after she had arrived with the Shang, or was it something linked more to how she had used to exercise it? Was it just because she missed Thom, and how she had rarely used it without him being linked to her? Or was it something completely different?

She didn't know, but thoughts of Thom crowded her mind. The images of him riding away with Maude all those years ago, the memory-dream she had been a part of the other night when she had felt the arrogance and determination of her adult brother – and above all, the keepsake she wore that he had given her so many years ago. She grasped it in her hand, and a small tear rolled down her cheek.

"Alanna?" The Goddess' voice rose out of the memories, and brought Alanna back to reality. "Are you alright?"

Blinking rapidly, forcing the tear to remain alone, she shook her head in the negative. "I'm…fine. Fine." Internally, she was worried – how could she concentrate when musing over her Gift simply raised memories of her brother? This would be _impossible_, she knew that now. 

"Did you find the center you talked of?" 

Alanna took in a deep breath, composing herself, before replying. "No." She was astounded by the Goddess' transformation to a more…rational…being, but she still did not feel entirely comfortable in revealing her deepest thoughts to her. "I'll try again." She didn't feel particularly confident that such a thing could be achieved, not when memories of Thom swam into her awareness, but she would not give up; she would _not_ allow herself to be defeated by something that she could control – _herself_.

"Good. Concentrate now."

_Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus._

Alanna turned her gaze inwards, furrowing her brow again as she sought to find her Gift. Sounds and images of her brother rose up again, and she attempted to ignore them. She was successful, in part – the memories twisted around the corner's of her subconscious instead of pushing into her awareness, but as soon as she let her focus waver they began to bleed into her minds eye. _No! Concentrate! _Her hands became fists, nails digging into her palms as her knuckles turned white while she fought a battle with her own mind – why could she not find this place once more? The Goddess had said that finding this center would work, but she didn't realise she have such problems in just finding it! The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit into her lip; _why wasn't it working_? How could she have been bested by her own will – why was she unable to find her focus! A slight whimper of frustration left her mouth, and she attempted to concentrate once more, to focus on a single point and move on from there.

A hand suddenly came to rest upon her shoulder, and a blaze of warm white light filled her. In shock, her focus left her completely; she simply stared at the comforting light. It eventually began to fade, slowly becoming gray and blending into her thoughts – yet a strange afterimage remained; it somewhat startled her to see a slightly multihued…_blob_ remain in the center of her minds eye, and she tentatively scratched at it with her mind, examining it. The blob seemed to move within her mind, suddenly snapping into focus. To her amazement, the blob appeared to be Thom. It looked like him, in part; well – it looked like the young Thom she remembered. It was a fleeting image, of course, as most memories are. Almost as soon as she had recognised him, his features shifted slightly her attention slid away from him. . 

"Thom."

She hadn't realised she'd spoken out loud, but at least the words seemed to reverberate more within her than outside, anyway. The blob did not appear to change, features shifting again and again. Every now and again, she thought her mind would equate it with Jonathon, or sometimes with George, but no image seemed to be as clear as Thom's had been. 

What did this mean? Did it mean _anything_?

The Goddess seemed to feel her stiffen under her hand – for it had been her hand that had come to rest on Alanna's shoulder. "Touch the image, Alanna. Become it."

Become it? Touch it? Alanna supposed using such highly-strung language could be forgiven, given what she was currently engaging in. Become it, then? What did that mean – become Thom, or the light? She didn't know, but she decided that there was really only one way to find out. After all, as much as the Goddess may know about magic or whatever, it was still _her_ own mind. She skirted her touch around the edge of the blob, pushing into it every now and again. It _felt_ solid, as much as something within one's own mind can feel anything, but she could also feel something else there; a subtle jelly-like quality that seemed to allow for a little give. She pushed into the blob at one point, focusing upon that one location and attempting to force her way into it. Nothing happened, bar sweat rolling down her forehead and another small tang of blood in her mouth as it rolled over her tongue. 

"Do not fight it, Alanna. Surrender to it."

Surrender? Now how on earth could she do that? Surrender wasn't a part of who she was, not since…Not since she'd become Shang. Perhaps _that_ was the problem; she had been taught to fight _everything_ – she didn't know how to give in. But how could she override that instinct now?

_Just imagine it's Thom – Thom wouldn't hurt you, he _couldn't_ hurt you._

She nodded to herself, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead. The blobs features shifted again, for a moment Thom flickered across its surface, his youthfully smiling face filled her mind, and she let herself go. She…_fell…_into the blob, passing directly through its walls and into the core, where a radiance seemed to come over her, warming her. Was this within herself, or was this something the Goddess had done? Regardless, she felt perfectly at ease here, wherever here was, and simply relaxed herself. 

"Now, search for your Gift, Alanna."

Yes. Yes, she could do that now, she could simply look about – what was the need to focus when she felt so at ease with herself? She _knew_ herself, or felt she did at any rate, and sure enough she found the room Maude had taught her to reach all those long years ago. The dark room which Maude had called 'the center', with the small ball of fire floating within the middle of it; the source of her Gift itself, or at least a representation of it. The fire now was nowhere near as bright as she remembered it to be, but she had been expecting that. What she had _not_ expected was the thin web of orange which now seemed to stretch across the ball, lacing itself around and across it.

"I found it," she whispered to the air, to the Goddess, "But something's wrong. Something's different."

"It's only natural for your Gift to have become depleted or tempered after such a long period of inactivity, Alanna." The Goddess replied solemnly. 

"No," she shook her head softly, "No, something else. Some other force is here, I can feel it." And she could, like a blind person being able to see again another sense had awoken within Alanna, the Gift's power becoming attuned to the world around her once more. It was amazing, this feeling of new life pulsing through her, and she would have shouted for joy at finding this once more had it not been for the feeling of unease at the orange web. "I don't- What is it?"

She opened her eyes then, startled to notice that the small windows were showing very little light in to the small hut – it seemed to be late afternoon now. But the Goddess ignored her confusion, instead launching into questions. "What do you mean? Other force? Can you describe it?"

Alanna grimaced; "Not really. I guess it just feels like," she brought her hands up, trying to show the Goddess what she meant, "like a web stretching across my Gift. Something tacked into it, of an orange colour."

The Goddess frowned slightly, "Can you reach your Gift? Ignore this…web for now." 

Alanna wasn't sure about that; she'd always found that it was better to meet problems only after having an extensive knowledge of them, but decided that the other woman knew what she was talking about here. She gave a small mental shrug, and concentrated once more. She could find her center easily now, just imagining the 'falling' into the Thom-blob allowed her to – well, not really surrender to her Gift _easily,_ but at least it gave her something to build on. The dark purple ball with the orange web appeared in front of her, and she concentrated on it. Reaching towards it in her mind's eye, she attempted to push into the ball as Maude had taught her to do when she was just a child. Tentatively, she brushed one of the orange strands away from the ball, and thrust herself into the purple interior. 

The ball pulsed, and she focused on it, attempted to stoke it to life. The ball began roiling, a brighter amethyst colour swirled within its' depths as her Gift began to flow into her. She reached out once more, attempted to pull some of the power away from the ball, to guide and shape it to her will, when she noticed something else. One of the orange strands, the one she had brushed aside earlier, was pulsing in time with the ball.

"I can reach it," she stated clearly, "But something's happening with the orange strands. They're reacting to it, or something."

Two hands came down on either side of her head, clasping her head between them in a vice grip. "Relax, Alanna, and I will aid you." The white light returned, blinding Alanna with its' intensity, and the ball (with the attached web) disappeared in a blaze of light. A pain filled her, and for a moment she almost shied away from the Goddess' hands in anger and surprise; until she realised that it was not _her_ pain. It was the pain of whoever – or whatever, had surrounded her Gift. The orange strands were melting in the heat of the light, falling away from her Gift as if they had simply lost all tension. By the time Alanna could once more envision the ball of her Gift, not a single Orange strand remained attached to it.

She opened her eyes, wide as they were in astonishment, and turned to the Goddess. "What happened?"

The other woman seemed to be paler than before, drained of strength. "I simply destroyed the spell," she replied weakly, "The spell which had affected your Gift was removed entirely. Eradicated."

Alanna didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she didn't really understand what the woman had done. "Do you know what those orange webs were? Did they need to be so…eradicated?" 

Blinking somewhat at the question, the expression on the Goddess' face frightened Alanna – it was one of confusion. "I do not know." She replied honestly after a moment, before waving the question away. "But I cannot think that they were of _any_ benefit to you. A persons Gift is a natural essence, something arising from that single person thanks to the grace of the Gods. No other force should so interfere with such a Gift."

"But you don't know for certain that it was doing anything bad?"

"No." The Goddess seemed unrepentant, which wasn't of any particular surprise. Most of Alanna's good will towards the woman, who she had previously hoped had moved beyond the phase of attempting to manipulate and cajole Alanna into doing things she did not necessarily wish to do, had now disappeared. This was _her_ body they were talking about! What right did the Goddess have to be so reckless!? "But as I said, it could not have been of any benefit to you." Alanna felt a slow boiling of her anger begin – that wasn't the point! But the Goddess either didn't recognise the look on her face, or completely ignored it. "Nevertheless, it is good to know that you can now reach for your Gift. Now you can manipulate it, guide it to your will – and as you so desire, to open this doorway."

Alanna began to feel furious – _how dare she?! _But she turned to look at the throw rug. To her amazement, she could _almost_ make something out now. It wasn't anything concrete, nothing like an outline or a door or anything so conspicuous, but she could _feel_ that something was behind it – something other than a solid wall.  

"Can you feel it?"

Best to keep replies at this point as short as possible, she thought. "Yes." She replied, bitingly. 

"Good, good." The Goddess murmured to herself, "Now reach for your Gift." Alanna found it easier this time, closing her eyes as she raced back into the small room within her, reached into the ball and stoked it to life. A flare of amethyst energy flew out from the inside of the ball, and she latched onto it. She opened her eyes with an audible snap, and a slight purple tinge began playing over her hand as she allowed more and more energy to flow within her. "Careful, Alanna." The Goddess warned, but Alanna ignored her. The _life_ that flooded her, the feelings of power - they were incredible! Her rage and frustration were feeding the fire, stoking it to awesome levels as the Gift bubbled from within her. It seemed to have a will of its own, loving the freedom after almost eight years of inactivity. "Be careful! Do not let so much fill you, it can be dangerous!"

Alanna – reluctantly – allowed a little of the power to slip from her grasp. "What now?" She asked quietly. There was no point in shouting; not when this much power lay within her. "How can I get through this doorway?" she could see it clearly now, the outline of it seemed to glow within her mind. She wasn't sure why, exactly, though she assumed it had to do with the levels of energy flowing within her.

The Goddess stood silent for a long time, simply looking at Alanna. Finally, she turned slightly, looking towards the doorway. "Well, the spell was designed so that it would alter its state after another spell was cast, but you don't know what those are-"

"Do you?"

"I do, but I will not be telling you." The Goddess answered, somewhat annoyed by the interruption. "I have a feeling that what I will teach you will come in handy. Soon, as a matter of fact." She moved closer to Alanna, eyes suddenly boring down into Alanna's own. "But first I have to impart another lesson to you. You are high on the feeling of touching your Gift again, I can understand that and excuse you for it. But you _must exercise caution!_ This is not something that you are used to as a warrior – it is something completely apart from your fighting skills, something which can take hold of you! The Gift is just that, a Gift, but it is a dangerous Gift that requires caution to use it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Alanna waved the question away; of course she was exercising caution! She did so with _any_ activity she set her path upon.

"Listen to me, Alanna! You cannot treat this lightly – it is something which requires skill and concentration to handle, and you must not let it wash over you! It is like a mountain stream, Alanna. It feels wonderful to be immersed in it, and holds within it a feeling of wondrous power, but you can drown in it easily!"

Alanna saw the woman's point, but she was not about to tell her that. She was still somewhat ticked off by the Goddess' actions; her pride would not allow her to be humbled before her now. "I understand perfectly," she replied, keeping her voice level and calm. "I will concentrate and maintain control over it. I swear it."

A skeptical look came over the Goddess' features, but she eventually nodded slightly. "I will hold you to that," she replied, "Best ensure that you do not break it."

"I will not." Alanna retorted, resolute. "Now what do I do now with this door?"

Sighing, the Goddess continued her 'lesson'. "As I was saying, you do not know the 'proper' way to bypass this doorway. Therefore, no matter how much power you have, you will be unable to get into the tunnel from here – unless you happen to stumble upon the correct sequence of words which will open it. But," she raised a finger to emphasise her point, "There is another way to get past the spell. You overload it."

"Pardon?" Alanna interjected. She knew sorcery was complicated, but she wasn't expecting to be lost so early – "I can't get through it using spells, but I can get past it by putting weights on it?"

"Do be sensible, Alanna." The Goddess tsked, "You do not put _weights_ on it. You _push_ your Gift into it."

"Into the door?" That didn't make any sense.

"Into the _spell._ You can see the outline of the door, correct?" Alanna nodded, "Take a strand of your Gift and run it along one of the lines." She did so, siphoning off a thing strand of amethyst power – reveling in the feeling such an action invoked, and lay it along one of the outlines of the doorway. For a brief moment, it seemed to cause a large…pattern was the only word that came to mind to Alanna. A lattice of other strands all interwoven together – to flash brightly. As soon as it had appeared, it had dissipated once more, fading faster than the eye could trace. 

"I couldn't make a single strand out of that mess," Alanna told the other woman softly, her frustration lessening for the moment as the power flooded back into her, "I could tell they were there, but I didn't have time to focus on one."

The Goddess waved the finger, "But you do not need to. You merely need to know where the weaving is, where the spell is being maintained." Alanna nodded, it sort of made sense. She supposed that it was somewhat like her _katas, _in the way a routine was the same no matter where it was performed. "Now that you know where it is, it is simply a matter of pushing your Gift into it. If you have the strength, you can cause the spell to, essentially, burst."

Nodding, Alanna drew deeply upon her Gift again, tugging the power out of her core. She could feel the life flooding through her again, awesome in its brilliance, and she had difficulty in guiding the power away from herself. Eventually, however, she managed it; a large cord of purple energy flowing suddenly into the area she had seen the spell-weave a few moments beforehand. The moment the purple cord touched the doorway, the pattern again flared into life, this time remaining visible for a far longer time. In that moment, she thought she could notice something changing; the pattern seemed to _bulge_ under the influx of power. The pattern began to fade before her eyes, and in a flurry she allowed more of her Gift to flow through her and into the doorway, into the spell-weave; the power racing through her now becoming almost too great for her to control. Her head spun as she tried to limit its flow, desperately attempting to pull back on the cord that was now racing through her. The strain was simply enormous.

Thankfully, she seemed to have done enough. With a high pitched sucking noise, the spell-weave seemed to fall in on itself as it simply shattered under the strain Alanna was putting it under. With a final desperate attempt at self-control, she managed to slice off the cord of energy, stopping the Gift flowing from within her. "Well," woozily stating after she had composed herself somewhat. "That was easy enough."

The Goddess' droll reply seemed to echo around the room, "Your nose is bleeding, Alanna."

_Huh_. "Oh. Well, nothing _major_ happened then. Nothing bad." She swiped at her nose; indeed, it was bleeding. Holding her head back, she managed to choke out a question. "Did it work?"

"Yes, yes. The way is open." The Goddess moved over to Alanna, and pressed something into her free hand. Bringing the hand up to look at the item, she found that it was a lacy white handkerchief, one that looked more like something a lady would use than…well, rather than someone like her. Still, it could stop the flow of bleeding, and with a nod of thanks, she pressed the brightly white square of cloth to her nose. A wave of nausea passed over her as her head came down, and she rocked slightly as it finally subsided. Now able to see around the room, she noticed that indeed the passage that she and Jon had traveled down was now visible where the wall had previously been. The throw rug was on the floor, smouldering slightly. "I take it that you will now take my warning about drawing on your Gift too much to heart?"

"What?" Her head was still swimming, "Oh, yes. Certainly."

"Good," The Goddess replied, and she smiled at Alanna warmly. "Then I shall make my exit. Remember, Alanna, find that proof that we need. I will let you know when you find it, as I will know what it is that we're looking for."

_We? – hah!_ Still out of it, Alanna seemed to have had the frustration and anger knocked out of her, and she managed to be almost courteous in her farewells. "Thank you for what you did here." She managed to force out, something which was somewhat ironic. She _was_ thankful for helping her into the passageway, something she would have had great difficulty in accomplishing alone. But she wasn't sure overall about the _requirements_ for this; her Gift being re-awakened, the dissolution of the orange web without her consent – these irritated and, if she was honest, frightened her. Her Gift, especially; she had survived for so long without it, and as soon as she had gotten a taste of it once more she seemed unable to control herself. Hopefully this was merely the reaction like that of a thirsty man with water – she would find it hard to stop the flow at this early stage, but she could eventually gain such control.

Nevertheless, it was something else she would have to work on; she wouldn't have her inexperience with her re-awakened Gift cause her or any of her friends any harm in the future. 

With a final smile at her, the Goddess began to shimmer once more, before disappearing completely right in front of her eyes. She cast a quick glance out the window, and noticed that the shadows had lengthened a little since the previous time she had looked outside. The light would remain for a few more hours at least; was that good or bad? It might be best if she waited till dusk to make her way in, she'd find it easier to sneak about when the light was low.

Yes, best to wait. Not the most comfortable of locales to spend a few hours, but it would do. 

***

The sun had sunk below the buildings in the area a few moments ago, and Alanna had decided that this would be the best time to make her way through the tunnel and into the castle. She'd spent the past two or so hours musing over recent events, prodding at her Gift once or twice in trepidation. She'd been so caught up in the moment before that she'd just accepted it easily once more – well, not easily, but she'd accepted it. Now that she had had time to think on it, it became slightly disconcerting once again; the ease with which it had almost slipped from her control frightened her. 

But she knew now that it _was _a part of her, and something which could be useful. It had, after all, been the factor that enabled her to gain access to this very tunnel. It was worrying, yes, but it was something she did need to confront; ignoring it again would not be the way to go. 

However, addressing the issue would have to wait. At the moment, she had a King to find. With a final quick glance around the small room she was now in, she made her way down the blue-hued tunnel, emerging deep within the palace grounds.

***

Finding her way into the palace itself had been surprisingly easy. The copse of trees' had allowed excellent cover for most of the way, and the low light aided her the rest of the way. Once she'd reached the walls of the palace, she simply followed them around until she could find a way to gain entrance.

She eventually did so, finding a small entry that led to – she assumed, what was an outdoor dining area. She'd found her way from there into some of the major halls, thankful that her rather inconspicuous garb allowed the various passing nobles to dismiss her as a servant. Still, she knew that the hardest part of the operation was still to come – how to find her way to Jon's room.

The problem was, she had realised while waiting for the sun to set, that she could potentially put on two disguises. One as a servant, or one as a noble. Of course, her garb and demeanour pointed the finger directly at her pretending to be a servant, so she had accepted this. She didn't _necessarily_ have to disguise herself, in fact she'd briefly entertained the idea of simply attempting to stealthily invade the palace, finding her way without being seen, but such an idea was fraught with danger and difficulty, and she disposed of it in short order. But the problem with her dressing as a servant was that she simply couldn't ask for the King's rooms. As a servant, she'd be expected to know that already, and she also doubted that any old random servant would be permitted to venture into Jon's chambers anyway. So here she was, stuck with what appeared to be endless miles of hallways, with absolutely _no_ idea of where she was supposed to be going. 

She had made the assumption that Jon wouldn't have his chambers in the lower bowels of the palace; that she'd generally have to move upwards. Following this, she chose some nearby stairs, swiftly climbing them as quietly as she could. The less attention the better, after all, was something she was taking to heart at the moment.

It was while climbing these stairs that an idea struck her – if every servant would know the King's chambers, would every servant know where _every_ knight was quartered? Maybe she could ask for directions to one of her knight-friends' place, who could then guide her to Jon's. Yes - yes she knew this would work. It _had_ to work – otherwise she'd simply be bumbling about for hours upon hours. 

Unfortunately, it seemed as if servants amongst the upper levels were a bit sparser than they had been below – she passed many noblemen and women, decked out in brightly coloured and well cut clothing, but she doubted that they'd have either the knowledge nor even the inclination to help her. She needed a servant.

Such a servant, thankfully, was not far away – an old woman dressed in fairly tattered brown livery was scrubbing the floor in one corridor. Nervous as she was, Alanna knew that she still held most of the situation under control; if the servant was worried about her actions, she could perhaps placate them with some fast talking, or as a last resort – knock them unconscious. She did not believe that it would come to that, however, since she doubted that any servant would have gotten wind of her description or that the Guard were looking for her. Still, recklessness breeds failure, as Liam had often told her, and so she set about the conversation with nervous energy flooding her body.

In the end this turned out to be unnecessary, with a small grin and a comment about 'the youth of today', the old maid seemed gladly willing to detail the location of Sir Raoul's dwelling. Alanna had chosen Raoul for two reasons; one being that she felt closest to him after their few meetings, and also that she had been to his quarters before – in a pinch, she thought she could (hopefully!) remember the way if she was in the general area. Thanking the woman, who in turn advised her to get a hurry on, she set out for the stairwell that the old woman had pointed her towards.

Eventually, following the path the woman had indicated, she found herself in familiar territory, and after ensuring that no-one about seemed to be about the place, she began hunting for her friends room.

***

Tracing her steps from the previous time she had been here turned out to be a little trickier than she had originally thought, as her memories didn't seem so firm now that the passages were as dark as they were. The light from a few flickering torches wasn't really what she would normally have considered 'light', as the various offsetting shadows and sharp odour made her head ache; it was more a hindrance than any real help.

Still, after a good ten minutes of hunting and a fair bit of pressing her ear up against the door, she thought she'd picked it. It certainly _looked_ familiar – but then again, every door in the area looked the same. However, it was the voice coming from within which swayed her mind; she could tell that Raoul was in there. Well, she _thought_ she could tell – the voices were particularly quiet. With a slight twinge of anticipation, she gave the door a solid knock.

"One moment!" came the cry from within, and Alanna grinned. Yes – this was certainly Raoul's. The voice was more familiar at such a level, and she was now sure of her choice. A moment later, the door swung open, and Raoul's cheery face greeted her. He recognised her straight away, a light entering his eyes as he saw her; "Great Mithros! Alanna; what are you doing here?" She wasn't sure if his almost instantaneous recognition of her was good or bad, but she supposed that it could only be good – given that she'd not been recognised at all during her ascent here. A noise from within Raoul's room caught her attention for a moment, but she would rather be facing one of Raoul's friends within the room than any number of people out here in the hall.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly. She didn't want to sound rude, but it probably wasn't best to discuss her problems out here in the hallway either. "There's something I need to tell you, and ask of you."

Raoul blinked for a moment, before he stepped back and waved her in. "Oh, yes. Please do." She swept past him quickly, pulling up the hood of her cloak slightly as she did, and glanced around the room swiftly. It was pretty much how she had remembered it, although obviously a bit darker. There was one difference in how she had remembered it, however, and that was the presence of the other occupant. Stopping dead, her eyes bulged slightly as she took in the instantly familiar form of Jon standing in front of her. His own look mirrored her own in many ways, although his mouth was hanging open – something she took some small measure of glee from. The mouth in question worked silently for a moment, before a small squeak of surprise emerged from it. 

Well then. One problem solved; at least she didn't have to find her way up to his chambers.

"I wasn't-" he began, still seemingly stunned by her sudden appearance, before shaking his head in disbelief. "What are you doing here?" he added a while later, eyes slightly more normal-sized by now.

"Actually, I came to see you," she replied with a careful tone; she didn't want to come across as accusatory, since she didn't believe he had a role in the warrant on George, but she couldn't seem _happy_ to see him, could she? She was of course, well – slightly, anyway. She hadn't seen him for what seemed like weeks, and while this wasn't necessarily all that _bad_, considering her previous meetings with him, she still did have to work out her feelings for him – and she couldn't much do that with him not around. He looked…good, too; both health wise and _in that way_. Allowing herself a small look at him once again, she was struck once more by just how attractive the man was – his blue eyes as icy as she had remembered them and his features still as chiseled. Banishing the guilty thoughts from her minds, she tried to get her mind back on track. "I need to discuss something with you." She finished; ready to beat down any excuse he might come up with to fob her off, if he did so.

Jon stared at her for a long moment, a relatively unreadable expression on his face. "Yes, yes. Certainly – I've been wanting to discuss things with you for a while, too." He finally responded, the voice matching his stare in its apparent lack of emotion. Raoul coughed – a particularly unsubtle gesture, and Jon turned to him. "Oh, right. Can we finish-?"

"Don't worry about it, Jon." Raoul replied, smiling. Why was he _smiling_? "I had some things to do now anyway, so why don't you two just stay here for the moment?" he added in a far too enjoyed tone of voice, before sliding out the door quickly. A last thrown "Good to see you again, Alanna." Came from the closing door, and then she was alone with Jon.

Determined to avoid the inevitable uncomfortable silence, Alanna immediately strode over to him. "I need to talk to you about something both pressing and important. The discussion about us can wait until after we've resolved that, alright?"

Jon was startled for a moment, before he nodded dumbly. "Alright," he told her, before chuckling softly. "Nice to see that you're attitude hasn't changed, then."

Why would she have changed? It'd only been a few days. 

Shaking the thought out of her mind, she fetched the warrant that George had rescued from the murdered magistrates mouth, and held it out to Jon. "Firstly, I want to know what the meaning of this is. I believe, or at least I hope, that you have nothing to do with it, but the same can't be said of…certain other parties."

Frowning over the bloodied paper, Jon took it slowly, before he spread it out in his hands. She looked at him as he read, looked at how his blue eyes took in the writing – absorbed the pages' message. Noting with some measure of relief the darkening of said eyes, as well as the slight tremor in the hands and the jaw, Alanna waited until he had finished the entire page. Eventually, he looked up at her, blue eyes wide. "What is-? How did you get this?"

"It was stuffed in the mouth of the murdered Duke Toromount." She answered, simply. "George and I were to late to prevent the murder from occurring, but we managed to exact some form of revenge on his killers."

Jon just shook his head in disbelief. "I don't understand. I mean-" he looked up at her then, imploring her to believe him. "I had _nothing _to do with this, I swear it! I'd never do that to George, not even with what he did wi-…" Jon trailed off, a slight red rising in his cheeks.

Alanna almost sighed with frustration, "As I said, we'll talk about that later." She sighed, realizing that she was probably pushing too hard at the moment. "Look, I know that this is very, _very_ strange – I don't know much about the administration of, well, anything, but I know that this is not at all right."  
"No, not at all right." Jon echoed, confusion playing across his features. "Mithros; just think of what else could have been done like this, what horrific crimes could have been carried out in my name. Who would do such a thing?"

"I have an idea," she replied, "And I think, given time, you'd come to the same conclusion."

He frowned, "Who?"

 "Roger."

Jon sank back down onto the bed, then, exhaling loudly. She didn't think that he was altogether shocked by this revelation – as she said, she expected that he would have come to the same conclusion eventually, but it was…_shocking_, if that made any sense; which she wasn't sure it did. It wasn't surprising, if one thought it over, but at this early stage? Such a glaring declaration might be like a punch to the gut.

Still, she knew she was right about this – Roger had much to gain from this venture of his; removing a stalwart ally of Jon's as well as creating a fair amount of dissent towards the King among the Court of the Rogue itself, all the while remaining distant from its operation. She had not thought of a single way in which the page could be traced to its original source; and thus its creator could remain undetermined.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Jon murmured quietly, before his mouth curled into a snarl as he crushed the paper in his hands. "Roger; damn him!"

"Jon, please;" she tried to get his attention, "We'll figure out how to deal with him later. For the moment, can we think about getting rid of it?"

"Revoking it?" he questioned, and she nodded. "Right, yes. That'll be done as soon as is able; thankfully it's not a difficult process."

"It's not? Well, that's a blessing." She sighed, "I was worried that George would have to continue hiding out for another few days. But…we can get rid of this, then?"

Jon nodded, "Yes, don't worry about that. I'll make sure that it's totally stricken from the records. George will be free to walk the streets by nightfall tomorrow, as I'll head down to the Magistrates court as soon as I am able." He paused, "Where did you find this again?"

"The mouth of a murdered magistrate."

"Huh. That's what I thought you said before," he bit his lip, "What were you doing at such a place?"

She shrugged, "I was there with George. We were there to stop the murder from being carried out, but we didn't get there in time. We killed the one behind the murder, and discovered that warrant calling for the arrest of George for the very murder we had gone to prevent."

Jon didn't seem satisfied by the answer for some reason, but she didn't chase up on it. Who knew what he was focusing on? Was it the murder, was it the warrant itself – she didn't know. He didn't appear willing to chase up on it either, as he stood. "Alright then." He said to her, "I'm sorry for the pain that this has caused you, Alanna. The worry and problems that it lay at your feet."

"Jon, don't apologise, please. It wasn't your fault."

"No, it was in part. If I'd have kept a closer eye on the proclamations, or if I actually attempted to _do_ something about Roger rather than simply shot him dirty looks," he sighed heavily. "Damn it. I don't know if this could ever be traced back to him, anyway."

She winced, "I guessed that, too. But," she added, "Perhaps it will have _some_ good, some small scrap of worth. It may well give us the…kick we need to get moving on Roger, to find that proof we need."

He nodded, smiling graciously at her implied inclusion of herself into the situation. "Silver lining and all that, right?"

"Precisely." A silence spread over them then, and Jon busied himself by pacing softly about the room, examining various nick-knacks that Raoul possessed. Alanna watched him steadily, a mixed feeling of relief and nerves bubbling away from within her – on the one hand, she was _so_ glad that things with this warrant and George seemed to have been worked out easily enough (at least, she hoped so. Jon might have problems, she supposed; but he _was_ the King. That had to count for something in this situation, right?), but she also knew that having resolved that issue…well. There was only one left on the table, so to speak.

Seeing as how the forward approach had worked so well the first time, she considered that it may well be best to go for it again; see if she could get her points across first. At the very least, it would break this _be-damned_ silence. Having made up her mind on the matter, she opened her mouth – only to realise that she had not the slightest idea of what she was going to say. Jon had seen her opening her mouth, it seemed, and now that she had closed it again he was looking at her with a quizzical expression. She grimaced; forcing her hand on the issue was _not_ fun! But with a sigh, she decided that it would be now or never. "Look, Jon. I know we have to talk about…things, and so I want to get some things off my chest first. Alright?"

Jon nodded. "Sure. Do you want to go anywhere else for this, or is here…?"

She shook her head, "No, here is fine." He gave her a small encouraging smile, before sitting down on the bed. "Alright. What I want to say first is that the night you told me, uh, about your betrothed," Jon opened his mouth, but she threw up a hand. "Please, let me finish. Anyway, that night was something that I truly regret. Not necessarily the time we spent then, nor even what we revealed to each other, but I do regret other things. I should have stayed and talked with you about it – because I _was_ hurt and confused by what you said, don't get me wrong, but I shouldn't have run." She sighed heavily as she tried to think of the best way to say the next part. "But most of all, I regret what happened after I returned to the Dove. You probably have an…idea of what happened, I assume, so…"

"I have an idea," Jon replied, voice flat. "I'm not sure if this idea is _correct_, though. But I guess that it is, from what you're saying."

Alanna couldn't read his expression, though his eyes certainly looked somewhat dull. With a small cough, she continued. "Well, yes, it probably was. I mean- I don't exactly want to get into details, it's not a decision that I pride myself on." She looked at her feet; the shame she had felt from her actions that night would still rise up every now and again, although she was getting better at working through it by now. Nothing could entirely remove it, of course, and she supposed that in the end this was good – she would want the reminder of where bad decisions can get you, but she was able to move past it now. "I regret what happened immensely, in how it affected myself, you and George – all of us. I hate how it made me feel about myself, although I'm working through that. But I hate what it did to you and George, in particular."

"What do you think it did?"

She frowned, "I saw the two of you outside my room the next morning, I saw the two of you fight. I also saw George's reaction to finding the warrant."

"What do you mean?" Jon asked.

"Just that he didn't seem willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," she replied. "And it's that kind of thing that I hate – the fact that _my_ actions so ruined the friendship you two had."

Jon shook his head wearily; "It's not your fault, Alanna." She gave him a skeptical look, and he smiled slightly. "Alright, it has to do _in part_ with you – but me and George were heading for some form of confrontation at some point, I believe. True, your presence kind of…set the tensions to boil, but it could have happened without you, and I think it _would_ have happened."

"Why?" she didn't understand; but they'd seemed so at ease with each other before she had come along – how could it not be _only_ her fault? "I remember what you said about him when you took me out for breakfast that day; you had nothing but good words for him."

"True, but things were not entirely right." Jon said simply, "George has always found it difficult to trust nobles, and I was no exception. We got along well, better than well, for most of our friendship – I won't deny that. But…" he grimaced, "he never truly trusted me, I don't think, nor I him. He was a thief, you know? The King of thieves, even – someone who I had to continually cover up my involvement with. It just became too much, I think, and I more than once gave him short shrift in our dealings. Things were strained before you even arrived in Corus, and when we both…y'know….fell for you, it just caused these tensions to spill. I'm sure George would tell you something similar." She wasn't altogether sure of that, but she'd accept it for now – as often as she may think otherwise, Jon knew George better than she did; they _had _been friends for years, and that had to count for something. "Can I ask a question?" Jon queried after a moment, and she nodded. "Do you love him?"

"George?" It was Jon's turn to nod, "I do, but only as a friend. For a while there, I wasn't sure – I still wasn't sure when I met with you that night. But…at the very least? What happened that night at least allowed me to realise that I didn't love him, not how he wanted me to love him, anyway."

He tired to hide it, but she could see a small smile creep over his face. She gave him a pointed look, and when he saw her, the smile slid away. For a second, anyway, and then it returned. "I can't say that I'm not glad, Alanna, because I am. It doesn't please me, what you did; it would be strange if it did, I imagine – but I still have feelings for you. Strong feelings, one's that didn't go away after that night and the next morning. They've changed, I know that too, but I still do want to give us a chance. I know you may well not feel anything for me, after the way I treated you, but I can't say that I'm not somewhat pleased that I'm still-"

"In with a shot?" She finished, and he bobbed his head up and down slightly. "Well, My Lord of Conte, I wonder whether I should be taking offence at being treated like a prized ham?" He laughed at that, and she joined in softly – _Great Goddess but it was good to do so again!_ The tension that had filled her body for the past few weeks seemed to slowly be lessening – the resolution, of sorts, that was accompanying this discussion was doing wonders to her spirit.

"Not a ham, Alanna." Jon said, slightly more seriously now as he stood up before her, "But may the lucky one gain the beautiful falcon." 

She was struck by how close to her he was at that moment, and her breath quickened slightly. Looking up into his eyes, she thought they looked a little deeper then they had the last time she had seen them, she noticed a smile creep over his face. He had declared his, as she saw it, 'intentions' towards her, and the knowledge that he still felt _something_ for her roused similar feelings in her, but was she ready to jump straight back into it here? Jon reached a hand up, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ears, and slowly moved in towards her. Was she ready…? No, she wasn't – not yet. "Jon," she whispered, pulling away slightly. "I-I can't. Not yet, not so soon."

Sighing, Jon sat back down onto the bed. "So you don't feel anything for me?" he asked her.

"I didn't say that," she replied after a pause, "I just- I need some time. I can't rush back into things so soon – plus there's still the matter of your betrothed. I mean, what use is a relationship which would always have to remain a secret?"

"It doesn't."

"Jon, I don't want to be known as your mistress." She said, firmly. It was true – she didn't want to be known as 'that harlot' who the King slept with because he didn't love the Queen. She may not care very much what random people may think about her, but she didn't particularly want to be the 'demoness' of an entire _country._

"You won't be," Jon replied, somewhat exasperated. "Because I don't have a betrothed any longer."

Well. _That_ was a surprise to her. "What?" she asked at a whisper. She just…._what_?

He grinned, "I broke off my engagement to Delia of Eldorne the day after I spoke with you. I knew that I…cared deeply for you, and that I would do anything to be with you. The only feelings I had for her, meanwhile, were revulsion and loathing. It was a fairly easy choice, in the end." His grin warbled slightly as he turned his attention to more confronting aspects of his actions, "Of course, it wasn't taken very well. The rumours about why I did it started almost as soon as the words left my mouth, and Uncle Gary upbraided me for a good long while over my, as he called it, 'rash and utterly thoughtless decision'. But I knew I did the right thing."

She was simply stunned; he risked all of that for…why? "W-Why did you do it?" 

"I did it because I knew it wasn't right," he told her, seriously. "At the end of it, I didn't want to be married to a woman I couldn't stand, however well it may have cemented my position as King. I don't think I could have put up with Delia for more than one year, let alone the rest of our lives." Swallowing thickly, he continued. "A good part of it was because of you, too. I knew you wouldn't want to be with me if I was promised to another."

No, she wouldn't have. But- She still couldn't believe it! "Wow."

He grinned. "Yeah."

"Wow." She repeated, "That's….wow. I can't believe you did that, to risk so much for it."

Standing once more, he put his hands on her shoulders, "I still have very strong feelings for you Alanna, and I want to be with you, if you'll have me. I hope that I can gain your trust this time, properly."

She nodded, "Yes, we didn't get exactly the right base for anything, did we?" Looking up at him, thinking about all they had discussed over the last half hour or so, she realised that a decision made now could be as problematic as her _other_ 'rash' decision had been…but she also realised, or maybe she already knew, that she wanted to be with Jon, too. Her feelings for him that had seemingly sprung up the moment she met him were still raging away within her chest – she wasn't quite sure if they were as passionately intense as they had felt before that night, but they were still there. "I'll tell you this, Jon. I do have feelings for you, feelings for you still, but I don't want to rush into _anything_ at the moment. Rushing into things got me to the place I was in recently, the emotional mire that I was trapped within, and I don't want to go through that again."

"So…" Jon offered, seemingly confused slightly. She didn't blame him – though it was somewhat amusing to see his wide grin come over his face after her first few words. "What does that mean? That you can't be with me now?"

She grimaced, "No, well…sort of. I just-" what _did_ she want? At the moment, she would be content to start things over with Jon – have a clean slate. "Maybe- Can we just start again? Pretend like we've just met for the first time? I think I'd like that, if you don't mind." 

"I think I'd like that too," he replied. Smiling warmly now, he stretched out his hand towards her. "Nice to meet you. My name is Jonathan of Conte, King of Tortall."

Taking his hand in her own, shaking it strongly, she smiled back. "Pleased to meet you as well, King Jon. I am Alanna."

Jon raised an eyebrow – "Just Alanna?"

"Alright then, if you must. Alanna of Trebond," the eyebrow creeped higher,"…also known as the Shang Falcon." She intoned, the ease with which she had just noted her entire being astounding her. She had, of course, known for many months – years even! – that she could be seen as three separate people; Alanna the woman, Alanna the Shang and Alanna the noble, but just…having stated it herself, accepting the different facets of her in such a way (or so it seemed), was very cathartic. 

Not letting go of her hand, Jon sank to a knee and kissed the back of her hand. Blushing furiously, she watched as he raised his head – that insufferable grin remained firmly affixed to his face. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Alanna of Trebond and Shang." 

Rolling her eyes, she kicked him lightly, laughing softly. "Oh shut up, and stop playing the fool." She pulled him to his feet then, looking up into his face again as she continued. "I realise we have only just met, but I can imagine us as being quite good friends, King Jon."

"Oh most certainly, Lady Alanna of Shang." He replied, still taunting her. She narrowed her eyes, and readied her fist to strike him. Noticing this, he quickly skirted away from her, muttering curses as he did so. She laughed loudly this time, as a truly brilliant sensation of being _happy_ again filled her. As she subsided, she noticed Jon glaring at her – an expression somewhat ruined by his large smile. "Laugh all you want, I'll get you back for roughhousing me all this time – just you wait!" 

She just smiled, the laughter still threatening to bubble over, and took his hand in her own. "I'm glad that we can start off on such a footing, Jon." She told him, heartfelt in her words. They truly were some of the truest words she had ever spoken, she realised, and was immensely glad to note that he seemed taken with them too.

"So do I, Alanna." He replied simply, squeezing her hand. "So do I."

***

Unfortunately, such a reconciliation had to come to an end, as much as she wished that it would not. Jon – wisely, she felt – restrained himself (almost literally; she could see him sometimes sliding his hand across his mouth as if to keep it closed) from asking her to stay with him, something which…well, she wasn't altogether sure how she would react to that. Probably not in a particularly positive sense, she had thought, if that made any sense at all.

Funnily enough, Raoul had been waiting outside the door, which threw her for a moment, before she realised that it was _his_ room they had been in. He grinned when he saw the two of them, "Things all better, then?" he asked. Alanna rolled her eyes, but smiled at him anyway, which caused  Raoul to…she wouldn't have called it a shriek, but it wasn't far off either – perhaps 'whoop' with glee. "This is great!"

"Yes, we're all very pleased with the result," Jon remarked with the driest tone Alanna had ever heard, "Congratulations all around."

Keeping a straight face proved difficult, but she managed it – _Oh but it was good to smile again! _"Anyway, I better be going then." She told the two of them, "I've got to tell George the good news." 

Picking up on her train of thought, Jon nodded to her. "And I'll get on that as soon as we're done here. Speaking of which, I'll walk you down to the gates."

So the two of them made their way downwards, after they'd said their goodbyes to Raoul anyway. "It's good to be with someone who knows their way around here." Alanna remarked as they passed through the dark corridors. "It's horrific when you don't."

"How did you get here?" Jon asked, "I'd been meaning to ask you that, actually."

She shrugged, "Not too difficult, actually."

Jon chuckled, "Is that just boasting, or-?"

"I don't boast, Jon." She replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "Well, not this grandly, anyway. No, I came through the passage you showed me; I was worried that perhaps the Guardsmen at the Gates may have been keeping an eye out for me – if not for being friends with George, then for what I did to the Guards when I left the palace grounds that night a week or so ago." She fingered her heavy cloak, as if for emphasis.

Her companion frowned, or at least she thought he did – it was hard to tell in this low light. "What you did to them? What was that?"

Blushing, she thanked this low light. "I, uh, was trying to get out of the gate, and they tried to stop me." Jon chuckled again, "I didn't hurt them too badly, I don't think."

"Perhaps not surprisingly," Jon replied after a moment, "I haven't heard anything about this – I'd imagine the Guards who were bested by a girl, after all they couldn't know you were a Shang, would have tried to keep _that_ particular story under wraps." She hadn't thought of that, but supposed that it made sense. Oh well – too late now to ponder over the why's and the how's. "But – you said you came through the passage I showed you?"

"Yes," she told him.

That seemed to stump him; "How? I mean – you told me that you hadn't used your Gift in _years_. I didn't think you would have remembered the incantation, anyway."

She shrugged, "I got a little help on the matter – to rediscover my Gift. Then I…" she stopped; would Jon be angry with what she had done? She supposed he would be, but there was no point in covering it up now. "I overloaded the spell."

This time, she _could_ see his eyes opening wide – "Are you-? Really? That's…very strange."

Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction she had been expecting, but…she probably shouldn't question it. "Why is that?" she asked, regardless of her better instinct – her curiosity overcoming her reason.

"Just that I've tried to do that in the past too, but never fully completed it."

"Oh," she replied softly. "Well, I am sorry for having destroyed it – having given you some work to do on it."

He waved the apology away. "Never mind that. At the end of the day, I think the positives of your visit outweigh the negatives." She couldn't really argue with that, could she? Reconciling with Jon, _hopefully_ having this warrant removed from over George's head…what more could she have asked for? "It won't take me too long to re-do the spell, anyway. Not too long, at least."

"Good. Good."

"Heck," he told her, "Gives me something to do, doesn't it?"

She smiled at that, and a thought struck her – what she had just been thinking twisting it into her mind. "But _after_ you've…revoked…this warrant thing, right?"

Jon nodded, "Of course, Alanna. Don't worry about that – I'll sort it out as soon as I possibly can. I'll head to the Chief Magistrates as soon as I've walked you to the Gates."

"Will he be awake at this hour?" she wondered.

"Old Taggart? I don't think he ever sleeps." Jon told her, mirth in his voice. Such lightness was not present in the slightest in his next words, however; "But I will have to start thinking on how to either track the perpetrator of this forgery, or to get Roger to admit to it. I have a feeling that this is the proof – or that this will lead me to the proof that I've been waiting for for so long."

"Well, it's what _we've_ been waiting for, now." She told him softly, clasping his shoulder. "I want to get at him too, Jon. For Thom." _And for the Goddess,_ her mind added – although vengeance for Thom's murder was by far the more important of those for her. She looked up at him, and he down at her, and she_ knew_ that they would succeed. They would bring Roger down, and she would be finally at peace with her Brother. 

Turning a corner, she immediately raised the hood of her cloak once more, as a man staggered into view. She almost immediately recognised him – the long shadows of the flickering torches obscuring some of his features. But not enough; his dark hair and dark blue eyes, as well as his chiseled face, immediately betrayed him as Roger of Conte. He looked almost exactly the same as he had in her/Thom's dream – and she shirked back instinctively. Beside her, Jon tensed up, and took a small step in front of her; a whispered "Speak of the devil," from him causing her to grimly smile slightly.  Addressing the man in front of them now, Jon coolly and clearly spoke, "Roger."

"How nice to see you, dear cousin." The other man replied, a sarcastically savage edge to his words. "As it always is these days and in these nights. Although, in the interests of your standing and your position, I would suggest that you not scuttle about the palace at such an hour and," he peered around Jon's shoulder at her,  "perhaps with not such company. Maids rarely make quiet companions, dear cousin."

A _maid?!_  She managed to restrain herself from causing a scene, but she had never wanted to hit a man more than she did at this moment. Jon, however, didn't seem possessed of such restraint. "You would be wise to shut your mouth, _cousin_."

Roger almost chortled at this reaction, "Important to you then, is she? I wonder what the girls name is; perhaps I will take an interest in her myself." Jon's knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands into fists by his side. She could almost hear his jaw creaking, as well, but she did not blame him. This man was abominable! The older man laughed softly, finally pushing past them and moving slightly down the hall. For the first moment, she could see him clearly – a feature she had not noticed previously now prominently displayed for them to see ran down the side of his face; a thin trickle of blood coming from his nose. 

Jon too seemed to notice these, frowning at his cousin. "What happened to you?" he asked, _almost _sounding sincere.

"Concerned for my safety, cousin?"

The King snorted, "I'd more likely thank the individual and offer them a hefty reward."

Roger gave her companion a disturbing smile, before his eyes flicked to her. He locked his eyes onto her own for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably under the hood. Jon moved further in front of her, something which both aggravated and relieved her, and Roger moved his attention back to his cousin. "Of course you would. If you must know, ah- it seems that one of my…experiments, has experienced a hiccup, and I was merely going to my chambers to check up on it."

Her companion seemed content with his answer, though he still glared at the other man for good measure. "On your way then." He told him commandingly, moving away from her towards Roger in an attempt to intimidate the man.

The effect seemed lost on Roger, who smirked once more before mockingly bowing. "Yes my _liege_." As he rose, he shot another glance at her, stalking off into the dark of the hall after he had satisfied whatever perverted urge he had. She released a breath she didn't remember taking, and she made great pains to not follow the departing man with her eyes. If she were ever to face him, to dispense revenge against the man who had murdered her brother, then she needed such focus and courage.

"I'd apologise for his manner," Jon began , "but he seemed to be in his most disgusting mood today."

"Is he always like that?" she asked, genuinely interested. Such a thing didn't seem possible. From what Jon had told her and from what she had gleaned from other random conversations, she had assumed that he generally was well liked amongst both the people and nobles alike. Surely if he was _that_ slimy and odious, then no-one would want to even be _associated_ with him!

Jon put her questions to rest, "No, not at all. Normally he's all charm and flashing teeth. Alone with me he's sometimes like he was then, but I've never seen him do it in front of another person before. I don't know why he was like that just then."

"Probably doesn't think he needs worry about a mere _maid._" She spat. _Odorous man!_

Jon seemed to begin…Alanna couldn't really describe it – it sounded most like something _growling_. "He is poison." He whispered after a moment, "I hate him more than I thought I could hate anyone." He sighed heavily, the tension running from his face, "Something which truly scares me at times. I have never wanted anyone to die purposefully before, not someone I knew well, but I can think of nothing more satisfying to happen to Roger."

She agreed on the matter, but she didn't imagine that Jon would appreciate her saying so. Not at the moment, anyway. An errant thought entered her mind; what had he said about his bleeding? "Jon," she began, memories of this afternoon and previous events coming back to her, "Where is Roger's chambers?"

Her companion frowned, stopping suddenly. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just a query," she replied, flippantly. Suddenly, her eyes widened – he couldn't possibly think that she-! With Roger?! "Oh! Not for- I mean, I just want to know for reference's sake, I don't want anything more to do with the man!" She literally shuddered at the _very thought_.

 "They are deep within the basement of the castle." He replied, cautiously, "Or at least, that's where his laboratories are, anyway."

_Why did that feel so important…?_ She didn't know, but she nodded anyway. "Right then. I think that might be a good place to start a more intensive search," she told her companion, "Obviously when he's not _there_, anyway."

Jon smiled, "Alanna the Investigator," he murmured. "I've had similar thoughts numerous times over the last few months – to sneak into his chambers. But of course, the only times I know when he isn't present is at the gatherings to which I'm also required to attend. Which is why having you here is so perfect-"

"Because I can go in there while you're keeping Roger busy at a social event," she finished the thought. "When is the next…" she struggled for a word – she supposed that if she were a 'proper' noble that she'd know all such names off by heard and back to front, but she hadn't the slightest idea at the moment. "Uh, Gathering or whatever that you know Roger will be attending?"

Jon thought on it for a moment, "There's the mid-winter ball coming up," he told her. "That's in a week, but I'm not sure if Roger is going to be there. If he's required to attend and stay for the better half of it."

She nodded, and followed Jon as he began walking again. "Can you find out?" she asked him.

"Yes, I'll try and find out if anyone else knows Roger's plans for the event." He replied, "And then once I've got an answer I'll come and tell you, and we'll work out the rest from there."

"Right." She was already thinking of things she would have to do – train up on her spell-blowing and her Gift in general (after all, a sorcerer's laboratory wasn't going to just have _physical _locks and doorways), test her legs for combat; many things. She smiled, looking back up at Jon – "We can do this."

"I know we will, Lady Shang." He replied, softly. She punched his shoulder lightly – the name was growing on her, as much as she didn't want it to. Maybe it was just because Jon was saying it…though she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing that he could get away with almost anything. She decided that at this early stage in their…_friendship_…it didn't really matter. He rubbed his shoulder playfully, before taking her hand in his. She didn't object, and the two of them strode down the dark halls in a comfortable silence.

Eventually, they found themselves outside, and Jon steered her towards the Gates. Just before they were to stride out into the open road that led to the large portals, Jon pulled her into the shadow of the palace wall. Here he locked eyes with her for a long moment. "I will thank every deity I can think of for bringing you back into my life, Alanna." He whispered to her, before kissing her forehead softly. 

She blushed, and she hoped he didn't see it. He really shouldn't be able to affect her in such a way – it would disturb her, if it didn't feel quite so nice. She simply smiled back at him, not trusting her voice at the moment, and followed as he led her back out towards Corus. Making their way towards the Gates, Jon called out for them to be opened, and she clutched her cloak tighter about her. Thankfully, it did not appear that the men she had encountered that night were on duty tonight, so she really did not need to worry. But it was better to be safe than sorry, after all. 

"Don't forget the warrant," she told him as she was beginning to make her way out. "Please do it as soon as you are able."

"I will." Jon replied, simply. "Take care."

With a final tilt of her head in thanks for the sentiment, she began to make her way out into the city proper, heading back towards the small hovel she had shared with George. It was time for them to return to the Dove. So far, every time she had walked under these gates had been the beginning of some of the most important events in her recent memory – marking the first time she had met Jon and the other knights, as well as the slightly less appealing memory. This time? Well – it was somewhat hard to judge from this early stage, but so far it seemed a most pleasant and wonderful venture. _Most_ pleasant…

At the very least - it was certainly easier than she'd expected.


	13. Laying the Groundwork

A/N – Okey dokey, really only three things to talk about here.

Firstly, the obligatory jumping up and down, shouting 'woohoo', 'yay' and 'mucos gracias' for the various reviews which I love so dearly. I guess everyone loves reviews at that, except if they say 'you suck', but - thankfully - I have not received any like that yet (And no, this is not an incentive to do so. Please J) Thanks to everyone who reviewed, hope you like this chapter…!

…which is tentatively known as (to me, anyway) the 'sap chapter'. Nothing really happens in this in terms of story movement, or action for that matter – but there's a lot of sentimentality and romance-oriented things. Plus, for anyone who thought George was a rather snotty brute in the previous chapter, I think you'll be glad to note that he manages to get out of the grubby hovel, so he improves a lot! ^_^  (Speaking of George, I've taken to heart the criticism that his accent is annoying to read. Well, it's also annoying to write, so I won't be doing it anymore!)

Finally, I've got four words. _One. More. To. Go. _(I've had thoughts for a sequel, and in fact a lot of 'loose ends' from this story would be tied up in said sequel, but I'm not entirely sure that I'll end up with the time nor the energy to write such a story. In which case…would people like me to just pop up my 1½ page notes for the sequel at the end of my last chapter? Or – on the off chance that I write the darn thing, would you like me to keep them 'at hand'?

Anyway – ENJOY! (and review)

***

Yes, this night was a most productive venture so far. Besides meeting Roger in that extremely awkward fashion, and – perhaps – the rather intriguing meeting with the Goddess, things had gone fairly smoothly. Something which she hoped would continue into her next activity; telling George about what had happened, and hopefully lying to rest his suspicion of Jon. She knew that she probably couldn't exorcise him of his jealousy – in fact, if she told him the _entire _truth about what had happened this afternoon (which she may well yet do, she hadn't quite decided what the best course would be), she would more than likely set it off once more. But still, she hoped that he might be able to look beyond her for a moment; to reconnect with his old friend once he knew that Jon had not been a part of it.

She knew it would be difficult for George, but she was confident that he could do it. He was a good man, she knew that most of all. A good man who deserved better than what she had given to him, better than what her _friendship_ had brought to him which, if she were to take a rather negative viewpoint, had brought George only trouble and heartache. '_To be Shang is to be death_', an old Shang proverb said, one which had often been repeated to the young Initiates. She had believed she understood it – that she _was_ death; she brought it, she dispensed it, she _personified_ it. But now… now she wasn't so sure. It may well, from her experience, relate to her relationships and associations as well.

But that was, she realised, perhaps an overly pessimistic standpoint. Perhaps she should think more on another Shang proverb – '_Wisdom comes from Patience_'. Wait and see, wait and _feel_ how her heart and her mind reacted to a more intense relationship…that of her tie to Jon. Wait and see what developed from their newly-patched-up 'friendship'. He had, after all, said that they should begin as friends - well, to his credit he had not even said 'begin'. She knew this, she accepted this, in fact it was something which she was particularly pleased about. Being friends with Jon again was more than she could have ever hoped for when the sun rose this morning. But she knew what it meant, what its _potential_ truly was. Was she happy with this? This _potential…_? 

If she listened to her heart – the answer was a resounding 'yes'. Jon had found a place in her heart before she had even _met_ him, thanks to the dreams; a place which had only grown more…_beautiful_ when she finally laid eyes on him. The single day in which they had been 'together' had been one which set her heart racing and her blood afire. The _potential_ to reach to that again was something which excited her in and of itself. 

Her head, of course, was propagating many other thoughts. What kind of future could the two of them have as a Shang and a King? Could she remain friends with George if she was with Jon? Could she carry through with her desire to kill Roger if she had to take into account Jon's feelings as well? She just didn't know…

_'Wisdom comes from Patience'_. Wait and see…Wait and see…

Yes, yes that was really all that she could do. Wait and see, and stop mulling over every little detail of 'what if?' and 'what for?'. A small smile came over her face – of late she'd realised that while she was very good at making decisions on issues like this, her mind inevitably wouldn't follow through on it. Too often had she begun to muse over issues and problems which she'd previously 'decided' to ignore, or to let by. Well…this time was going to be different. Mainly, she felt, because she was _happy_…It was always easier to ignore negatives when one was generally _happy_.

The smile remained, and soon she found herself entering the lower city. The hovel she had shared with George was not far, and she began to think over what had transpired since she had last seen him. More importantly, how she was going to describe it to him. The obvious starting point was her meeting with Jon, and what he had told her about the warrant and its forgery. He would have to know that, and she would tell him this first in as much detail as would be necessary. The question arose, in her mind at least, about the other incidents of note – would it be best not to tell George what she and Jon had discussed with regards to their…personal lives? It might be easier on him, mightn't it?

No, George would want to know straight up. Too often had she made the mistake of keeping things from him; her justification being to 'protect' either herself or himself from potential 'harm' of some sort. Not this time, no – she would tell him. Tell him without prompting from his part. She would tell him of the warrant, and after he had digested that, then she would…then she would…

What? What could she say? 'Jon and I have agreed to be friends once more, but I think that this is a prelude to a relationship in the future'? She didn't particularly wish to go into that much detail, not in the slightest, but would George be able to get the hint if she said it a slight more subtly? Yes, he would – he was a smart man, particularly to this kind of doublespeak and subtly. She grinned a little at that; George would have made a very good politician, if he had been given the chance. He had a mind for that kind of thing. 

Yes, she could count on him to be able to gather what her intentions were; she would tell him the plain truth, that she and Jon had rekindled their friendship. He knew that she didn't love him – not in that way, not any more – and he would know what she meant by that. Good, good. But what about the other thing? What about the Goddess, and her Gift? Was George going to still be angry with her for having concealed this facet of herself from him until now? She hoped not – going over all this information with him tonight would work so much better if he were to be somewhat receptive to her. It would be difficult, after all, for her attempt to wrap his head around reconciling with Jon while George was antagonistic towards her. Should she then tell him about just _how_ she had gained access to the palace? Perhaps not – but she knew that she wouldn't, indeed _couldn't_ lie to him again. But…if he asked, she'd tell him. Whether he believed her or not was another matter, of course. But she wouldn't offer up this information as she would with the news on Jon and herself; doing so could well create a needless hassle for her.

Satisfied with her decisions, she took a long look around, attempting to work out just how far it was now. The sun had been down for a while by now, though a thin red glow could still be seen on the tops of the tallest buildings, and she found it a little difficult to discern her precise location. The lower city was somewhat of a maze in many respects; the Thieves Road that she and George had traversed the other day being fairly indicative of how the streets around here were designed. Which was, on reflection, probably not a good term – as far as she could see, they had no design about them whatsoever. A rabbit warren would be easier to find one's way along.

Still, that didn't mean that it was impossible to find out one's location, something which thankfully Alanna had discovered. George had pointed out specific landmarks which would 'point a path' as it were from the centre of the warren-city to the palace walls, something which she was _incredibly _grateful for at the moment. Some of these landmarks she had managed to spot on her way along, and could now – she hoped – simply allow them to give her a rough indication of which direction to travel.

Sure enough, George's instructions had been well articulated, with Alanna finding it relatively easy to find her way back into familiar territory. The small street/alley that her and George's _lovely_ hovel lay within was soon found, and from there she knew she could find her way. The by now almost non-existent light threatened to made things difficult, but she found it easily. This was, however, more to do with the fact that George was standing in the middle of the street with a lantern than any skills on her part.

"What are you doing?" she asked once she had trotted beside him. He looked haggard in many respects, though she could almost _see_ his relief when his eyes first fell onto her. "You could be in such danger out here, especially with that light!" It was true – even though Jon would revoke the warrant (_attempt_ _to revoke_, her pessimistic side shouted) she doubted that the order had yet trickled down to the average Guardsman, and it would be these who would prove to be the largest burr for George and her. They would still have to be wary of them, and particularly their potential usage of…_overzealous_ attempts at arresting either of them.

George simply shrugged, and shot her a thin smile. He pointed towards the doorway to their little refuge, and began walking towards it. Frowning, Alanna followed, wondering what was going through George's mind at the moment. She wasn't sure that he was angry with her, or with anyone, but he wasn't acting like himself. Of course, he hadn't been acting like the George Cooper she had known (and _loved_ to some degree) in her first few weeks for quite a while. Was this a bad omen, or was it good? Perhaps George had taken the time to think on matter, and had come to the conclusion that she was not worth the dissolution of his friendship with Jon. Alanna sighed softly; perhaps that would be true in a perfect world, but she doubted that this was why George was acting oddly.

She stepped in through the door George was holding open for her, entering into the dark, dank interior. It smelled – something which she must have become accustomed to over the past two or three days, but now – after a stint in the palace for a while and in the cleaner air of the other districts, it truly struck her. George placed the lantern down onto a small corner table which the two of them shared, blowing the light out as he did so. The room was even _more_ dark now, but one or two candles allowed for just enough light for the two of them to see each other. 

"Alright then," She began after a lengthy period of strained silence – something had changed between them of late, she knew this. She also knew that it was predominantly her fault for this having occurred, "I suppose you want to know what happened."

"Aye," George replied, "I'd like that. Maybe just…"

"What?"

He sighed heavily, "Nevermind. Just tell me what y' think is important."

Pursing her lips – she guessed that he had probably almost asked her to leave out what had happened between her and Jon, she nodded to him. "Alright then," she repeated, readying her thoughts for what she knew would prove to be a lengthy and a difficult conversation. "Where to begin then? Well, I have to tell you that it's good news in general."

"Good, good."

"Yes. Jon said- When I showed him the warrant and asked him about it, he told me that he most definitely did not order it, did not create it. He assured me that he'd revoke it as soon as he was possible. He didn't know _precisely_ when that would be, but he was fairly sure that he'd be able to have had it done by sometime tomorrow. And…and he asked me to apologise on his behalf to you directly for what it may have done to you; the pain and worry which his oversight in not keeping a closer eye on the proclamations led to." Jon hadn't said that directly, actually. But he _had_ apologised to _her_ on these grounds – she could…extrapolate them to George, couldn't she? Besides, it was a _good_ lie, something which would hopefully lead to a reduction in tensions between them. Jon had seemed to be genuinely apologetic for what had happened with George, so she knew (or at least hoped) that Jon wouldn't be too upset with her putting words in his mouth. "He is deeply sorry for what happened, George."

He nodded once more as he sank to the ground, leaning his back up against the wall. "Well, it is good news that t' warrant is being lifted." He said simply, "Very good."

Alanna frowned, she had hoped that he would comment on the apology Jon had given him. Well, _potentially_ given him. Maybe he suspected what was to come – what had happened between Jon and herself, and so didn't really want to be liking him too much at the moment. She didn't know; George's emotions had always been difficult to read, especially when he was carrying off his impression of a bronzed statue as he was now. "He doesn't know exactly who forged it, the warrant I mean, but he agreed with me about it probably being Roger."

George snorted rather loudly, "Course he would." He stated softly.

_What_?! He _still_ believed that Jon had done it? "You can't be serious," she all but gurgled, the sound being strangled in her throat – he _couldn't_ be serious, could he? "You don't still think that Jon issued it, do you?"

"Well I…" sighing loudly, George pushed himself to his feet. "I don't know, alright? This is difficult for me, you know."

"I can accept that," she told him, "But continuing to believe…_that_…is just-" What was it? She felt that it was stupidity above all else, but she didn't want to say that. It was stubborn more than anything else, true, but it was also something more. "Well, at the very least it's just you being stubborn."

"Yeah, I know." 

"So why do you still believe it? Why do you continue to believe that Jon could do something like that to you? I know you said that your friendship of late had been strained, but how can you continue to believe that he'd order your arrest? Your _death_?"

"I don't!" George shot back, voice raised slightly above its' normal pitch, "I don't believe that he'd do something like that to me! But it's just- It's hard for me to accept this…I don't know why that is." He swallowed hard, she could hear it from where she was standing, and shook his head. "But- Look, I don't blame him, or at least I know I shouldn't. Maybe I just…Maybe I _want_ to blame him."

"Why?"

"I-…Nevermind. I don't know why I said that before-" he sighed heavily, shaking his head to dismiss the thought. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring this up; I don't blame Jon for it, I know that he'd never do something like this."

Alanna was certainly sure that George wasn't as convinced as he sounded, but there was little point in getting into it now. She should think over it and perhaps bring it up later – _why did George _want_ to blame Jon_? "Alright then." She replied after a beat, "So that's that then – Jon told me that he'll be going down to the magistrates as soon as he possibly can to revoke the warrant. He told me that it was relatively easy to do, so I don't think we need to worry about it any longer. Well, not that much anyway."

"I suppose at some point then we'll be able to move back to the Dove," George said, "It'll be good to be out of here."

She couldn't agree more, this tiny space which had frayed tensions and cramped the two of them up for days – well, she would be glad to see the last of it. "Yeah, I think that we should be able to do that tomorrow, hopefully."

"Is Jon going to be getting in touch with you?" her friend asked, "Is he going to give us an all clear?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, thinking it over. "I don't think he mentioned anything like that, although he will be attempting to meet me at some later stage anyway – but I've got no idea of when that could be." She shrugged as she realised that it didn't really matter all _that_ much, "If you think it's a good idea, I'll scout around the Dove in the morning tomorrow, see if there are any Guardsmen around or the like. They won't recognise me as readily as they will you, so I should be able to get around quickly and quietly."

George nodded, "Makes sense-" he mumbled under his breath, before looking up at her, "But you've got to be careful. Of any Guards, and perhaps any thief or whatever who might wish to take advantage of the warrant in an aim to get a reward."

"They'd turn you in?" she asked, genuinely shocked, "I thought that there was a law within the Thieves that one didn't turn on another?"

"_Unspoken_ law," George stressed, "It's more a general belief than anything. Sure, if you're caught handing in a fellow thief or his whereabouts, then you'll be branded a traitor, but for some…the reward is worth more than that. Besides, I'm sure that there are some out there who'd be willing to turn a blind eye to see me gone."

"Like Pilkar was?" Alanna asked quietly. George had never _really_ been forthcoming details about the behind the scenes politicking of the Court of the Rogue; such was it that she had been so astonished to find that one thief – Pilkar – had turned against the King of the Court.

From what she could tell, George growled at the mention of the other thief. "Yes," He eventually responded, fists clenched and held by his sides, "Just like that bastard."

She nodded, it didn't seem that he'd be supplying any more information on the topic – "Don't worry, I'll be very careful. Besides, I can certainly protect myself, can't I?" She grinned, happy to note that a slight smile crept onto George's face too. She hadn't decided yet, but she might also try to use her Gift to cloak herself somehow. She didn't know how to go about it, but she might give it a shot. Still, George didn't need to know that. "I'll check it out early in the morning, might even have a quick chat with Nelly and Riven – see what has been going on there, see if any Guards or whatever have been asking us, and then come back here."

"Alright, lass. I think that's a plan," George smiled at her – something which she had _sorely_ missed as of late. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that he probably wouldn't stay that way for a while. She'd really run out of things to say – leaving only one more thing to discuss. She could, of course, ignore it for now and not talk to George about it till they'd returned to the Dove, but…no. She'd promised herself that she'd tell him, and he did deserve to know what had happened. "There's one more thing I need to tell you, George," she began slowly, still wondering how best to word it, "Something else that me and Jon talked about that you deserve to know."

He grinned – or grimaced, she couldn't tell – and sank to the floor again, leaning up against the wall once more. "Aye," he said, "I was expecting something like this."

"Well… it would have been rude to go all that way and not talk to him about it." She replied, a small smile on the edge of her lips.

"I suppose it would at that," George replied, a soft chuckle rising out of him, "Still. Let's hear it then."

She nodded, "Alright. Basically we talked about how we ended up in this position; how things had progressed to the extent that they had. We decided that we wanted to be friends again, to lay that down first."

"But things will probably move past there won't they?" George queried, "I mean, is that the intention?"

Biting her lip, Alanna thought over it. "Speaking for myself? It is. I have deep feelings for him, and while I don't think either one of us is ready to move into something now, I do believe that after a while – once we've reestablished our friendship, then I do hope that things will…progress. And I know that this will be hard for you, I know that and with all my heart I'm sorry for it. I'm sorry for what I did to you, George – sorry for how much pain I've put you through."

"Now lass," George waved his arm dismissively, "We've been over this before. It's not your fault that any of this happened."

"But it is, George!" she responded vehemently, _knowing_ that she was in the right here, "It is my fault! At the very least it's _partially_ my fault, which is still meaning that it's my fault! Don't you see, George? If it weren't for my actions and my decisions, things would have been so much simpler all round. If I hadn't kept things from you, if I hadn't taken so long to look into my heart and work out my feelings – if I hadn't done these things, then the pain that you've gone through could have been entirely spared! Things could have been so much better!"

"That's a bit selfish, isn't it?" George interjected suddenly, a questioning tone on his lips. "I think you mean that things could have been simpler. But Life is not simple, Alanna, it's a mixture of complicated incidents all stacked up together – _that_ is what Life is about. That is something which I learnt through my contact with you, especially. I mean - you haven't even asked me whether I wanted this pain that you apparently caused me to have never happened."

She blinked; asking softly "What?" 

"What if I told you that I don't wish for anything to be different? What if I didn't want this 'pain' to have gone? What if I get _more_ pain from you saying that you wish you could have changed the past?" He sighed, and stood up slowly, moving towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders in one motion. "Alanna, I love you, and you know that by now. I now know that you don't love me back, and while it hurts – it's alright that it hurts, because I know that I got close enough to you for me to be able to know this. I got close enough to you to know that you don't love me in return, and that's something which I will never regret having done. I may sometimes wish that I _hadn't_ learnt that truth, but the fact of the matter is that I did, and I did by _knowing_ you well enough. And that – that_ knowledge_ of you, of your beautiful soul and your sharp mind, your skills and your sense of humour – is something which I'll always treasure, regardless of whether I can call you mine." Alanna, while shocked to her core by what George was saying; feeling a warm glow spread through her at his words, felt a single tear slide down her cheek, "At the end of the day I hope above all else that we can still be friends, and I think that because of what we had before that we can be very _close_ friends, something which I believe is worth the pain that we have gone through."

"George, I…"

"The simple truth is that I don't regret a single moment of these last few months, Alanna. It's been an experience which I wouldn't trade even for all the Gold in Carthak." He wiped the tear away with his thumb, before letting his lips turn into a wide smile, "Well, besides these last few days in this Gods-forsaken hovel. That I could have done without."

She couldn't help it – she laughed painfully, tears of both joy and sadness spilling from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time that tears had fallen this freely from her eyes, but she knew that she'd always remember this moment. "George," she tried to begin, emotion choking her voice, "I don't know what to say…" _Perhaps start with 'that was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me'?_ How could he – how could anyone say such things about her? It was…amazing. 

"Just say that we'll always be friends, Alanna." He replied, "That's something which I would dearly love."

"Of course we'll be friends, George." Alanna stated simply. It was true, what he had said – while her time with George had been painful, she'd also come to know him more intimately than…well…anyone besides herself. George was her greatest friend, someone she knew that she desperately needed to keep in her life. "I don't think you'll be able to get me away from helping you with Rogue-ish duties, anyway."

"Oh, did you enjoy the little 'raid' on the Magistrates building, then?" He asked, a quirky smile on his lips. "Because I would seriously have to reconsider my friendship with you if that were the case."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Not so much that one – As you said, I could have done without these past few days. But I do want to help you, I do think that I'm an asset to you, and I think you could use me."

"Aye lass, that I could. Besides," he added with a wink, "I think I'm a little to frightened of you to be refusing your help, not to mention all the lads who would cut me open if I prevented you from joining them at the Dove some nights."

Alanna smiled at him, "Thank you George." She whispered, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for all that you've done for me."

"Don't mention it, lass." He replied, "All I ask is that you think about what I said, and you _accept_ it as the truth, alright?"

Smirking – he obviously really did know her. Her mind had already made moves to dismiss some of the nicer things he had said about her – she patted his shoulder as she moved away from him, "Alright, George. I'll try." 

George narrowed his eyes at her then, doubting her reply. The small smile on his lips certainly dimmed the somewhat hostile look, however. "Well, it's a good thing that I'll be around to make sure you do, then."

"That it is, George. That it is."

***

 The rest of the night had been, well…the only word that she could think of to describe it was _fun._ George's words to her, and her first-steps towards accepting these as the truth, had seemingly lifted the tension between them away – they sat within the hovel simply talking and laughing, playing stupid children's word games and singing songs that Alanna had heard in the Dove's common room many a night. Things were carefree; even her knowledge that George was still in love with her didn't create friction as it had once done. Where once she would constantly worry whether or not a touch here or a smile there would lead him on – give him the wrong impression, she now simply accepted (or at least, tried to accept) what he had told her. That he was in love with her, but he knew that she didn't feel that way about him. She also knew, because she knew George, that he would never _think_ of trying something with her if she were not willing.

Carefree…yes. Of course, it was only for one night, but it was enough for a great weight to be lifted from her shoulders. She did need George in her life, she knew that now; their strained relationship had been a great cause of worry and guilt, which was now gone – gone hopefully forever. 

She'd even opened up to him and told him of how she gained entry to the Palace, something which she hadn't planned to do. Told him of the Goddess' appearance to her, and how the Goddess had even _apologised _to her for actions past. George had, at first, been somewhat disbelieving that she had met the Goddess, but after a while…after a while he began to look a lot like a fish, or so she thought. His mouth simply hung open, every now and again a soft "Wow." Coming from it.

When she had finally finished, and even created a small ball of light with her Gift – something which was surprisingly difficult. She'd assumed that it would be very easy, and had attempted to create a large floating ball of light with her first attempt. What she had actually got, however, was a tiny purple flame which had set fire to the dusky throw rug that lay on the hovels floor, which she and George had eventually stamped out and thrown out the door. But she finally managed to create the small ball, even though it exhausted her to do so – and George had been incredibly impressed with it. He himself couldn't muster that amount of power, and she suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be Gifted as well. 

"Does it frighten you, sometimes?" she asked, "Your Gift, I mean."

He had frowned at that, probably not quite understanding where she was coming from. "Not really," he had answered after a moment to think about it, "I guess that I don't really think about it too much. My Gift uses me, I don't use it."

Alanna blinked, "That would scare me." She told him truthfully.

"Aye," George replied, smiling in the soft purple light, "I'd imagine it would. Not being in control of everything."

She nodded, "Yes. Which is why my Gift worries me at the moment." Frowning, she revised her words, "Well, not so much worries me but…unsettles me."

"Alanna, you've not used your Gift in over seven years, and the pers- _being_ who re-awakens it within you is the Great Mother Goddess herself. I don't think it'd be considered unnatural to be unsettled by it." George replied, "In fact, I'd have been more worried if you simply accepted it straight away!"

"Well that's also one of the things that unsettles me."

He obviously didn't understand that at all, "What do you mean?"

Grimacing, she thought on what had happened to her recently. "Well you said it yourself. I haven't used my Gift in seven years, and yet…I don't know, using it lately – it sometimes feels difficult to _not_ use it. It's something which I've done without for seven years, seven hard years of Shang training, and yet now I think about it a lot. I try and factor it into plans I make, you know. And that's something that I don't particularly want to do, if I'm honest with myself."

"Why, because of the Shang attitude to it?"

"In a way," she said, nodding to herself. That was the truth – Shang didn't accept Gifted students because they worried that their powers would be a crutch for the initiates to lean upon, something which she accepted. But…of late she _had_ been using it as a crutch, or at least _thinking_ of using it as one. That was something which most certainly unsettled her and, if she were honest with herself, _frightened_ her. "It's just…I don't know whether I should be using it, because it's something that I'm born with, and it's something which _can_ allow me to do things which I couldn't do beforehand. But on the other hand, I'm…alright I'm _worried_ that I might end up relying on it far too much."

George mused over that for a while, quite literally stroking his chin as he did so. She laughed at that, but didn't explain why when he asked her. Eventually however, he got around to commenting on her thoughts, although perhaps in a slightly less 'answer filled' way than she might have wished for. "To be honest, I don't know what you should do. I'd suggest, however, that you should do whatever feels right at the time. That's how I've always lived my life and, in particular, used my Gift. I rely on instinct."

She had nodded to that, wondering whether or not such advice was applicable to her. Instinct was something which she relied upon heavily, but she also had a feeling that it would not be of use in this particular case. As far as she was concerned, instinct was all well and good when the matter was that of immediate concern, but this…? She wasn't sure that her instincts would guide her on the right course. Still, she had not raised the issue again that night, and the two of them had moved onto other topics – in particular, she had asked George to tell her about his apparent friendship with Thom. He'd told her a lot of it before, from when she had first arrived and the days that followed, but she wanted to hear it again. 

So he had told her again, and soon afterwards she had drifted off to sleep.

***

The next morning was one of both relaxing and increasing tension; relaxing as the friendship she shared with George reasserted itself once more, and tension as they discussed how best for her to 'scout out' the Dove. George, funnily enough, was worried that she would be hurt, while she was becoming increasingly aggravated by his insistence that they go together.

 "They've seen you, George." She said to him through gritted teeth, "They know what you look like. Moreover, if there's any of these opportunistic thieves around then they're going to recognise you straight away. On the other hand, I doubt that the Guards got a good look at me – and if they did then it's unlikely they talked about me a lot," she added, remembering what Jon had told her about the Palace Guards she had injured the night she had fled from the palace, "so it's therefore unlikely that _they_ will recognise me. Plus no-one has any reason to think that I'm hiding out with you, so these thieves who might try and capitalize on the situation aren't going to suspect anything. And if they do, then I'm well prepared to fight them off."

"I'm not so sure about that-"

"George, I'm a Shang Warrior for Mithros' sake!" she shot back incredulously, "No offence – but I don't think a handful of thieves would pose any problems to me!"

"What about your legs?" George asked, "Have they healed yet? That's going to slow you down, isn't it – especially if you fight."

She growled inaudibly; why did he have to be right? She busied herself for a moment by stuffing various small items into a small belt pouch that she had found, "My legs are fine," she told him after composing herself, keeping her face blank of any expression, "I just bruised it on the night. It was fine yesterday, and it's getting better all the time. I'll be fine on it."

"You sure?"

"Of course." She wasn't, actually. Her leg _felt_ fine, she was sure of that at least. But would it hold up to combat? _That_ she wasn't so sure on – managing to get through _kata_'s was one thing, actually contacting the enemy with an injured limb was another. Still, she had every confidence that she wouldn't need to find out. _If_ she were recognised, and as far as she was concerned that was a very large 'if', then she could always try and talk her way out of a fight. Even if it came to fighting, she could always minimize the use of her legs; punches from a standing position worked well enough against those who didn't really know the intricacies of fighting. It would be difficult, but she could do it - she knew she could. 

"Aye lass, alright. I won't cause a fuss – not too big a fuss, anyway. Like I said yesterday, I'll still be worrying about you, but I probably don't need to be." He grinned, "But I like worrying about you. Makes you seem less mighty or something."

"Gee, thanks." She replied, "Nice to know that I'm such a crowd pleaser."

"Nah, nah. It just gets a little bit incredible sometimes; thinking about what you've achieved in such a short amount of time. Shang Warrior, Noblewoman-" her mouth opened ready to oppose that particular 'achievement', George raised his hands to ward her off "-now, now. It is something which makes you You. Maybe you were born into it, and maybe you don't exactly…practice it, but it is a part of you. Then you've got this whole Goddess angle which really…I don't know. It's just amazing to think about it sometimes. Me worrying about you just reminds me that you're human, I guess."

"Of course I'm human," she replied, "Mithros knows' I make mistakes like everyone else."

He smiled at her and nodded, "That you do. Maybe that's why I worry about you; even with all your skills you could still make a mistake."

"I am always careful."

"Good," George turned back to what he had been doing before this conversation had started, clearing away the various bits and pieces which the two of them had used while hiding out here. It wasn't much, but it was enough to indicate to anyone who was looking that the hovel had been resided in recently, something which George didn't want. Apparently this place was a safe-house that only a few of the Rogue's inner circle knew about – and George most definitely wanted to keep it that way. "Good."

She nodded briskly, even if he couldn't see her, and attached the belt pouch to her waist. Some small bits of cheese and bread, the food that she and George had been living off for the past few days, were inside it along with a piece of flint. Basic survival items which it never hurt to be without. Actually, George insist she take it on the _extreme_ off chance that she needed to survive on the streets alone for a day or so, something which she personally couldn't see happening in the slightest, but she had decided not to argue on this point. It was, after all, something which didn't really matter in the larger scheme of things. She could still fight with it on – she hoped she could at least, and it would placate George a little. After tightening the straps on it a little, she took a final look down at herself – plain breeches and shirt were about as inconspicuous as one could get…excepting the fact that she was female, but hopefully this wouldn't be _too_ obvious from any distance. A knife in one boot was her only weapon at hand, again excepting the fact that her hands _were_ weapons, as were her feet and legs – although she hoped she wouldn't have to use them just yet.

With another sharp nod, she knew she was ready. "Alright George," she told her friend as she made her way to the doorway, "I'll be back as soon as I'm able, though I hope it'll only be a few hours."

He nodded in return; they'd been over this before – she'd scout out the place, and if nothing obvious was apparent, then she'd make her way into the Dove to question Nelly and anyone else there George had noted as being trustworthy. If this then revealed that nothing untoward was apparently laying in wait for George or herself, then she'd return here. After that? Well, they hadn't worked that out yet, although it would be obvious that they'd still have to be careful. "Be careful." He told her again, and she grinned.

"But of course," he replied flippantly, "Am I ever anything else?"

"Do you want me to answer that question?"

Her grin widened, "Maybe once I get back."

"I'll hold you to that," George laughed as she opened the door, "Better yet, while you're gone I'll make a list!"

She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it – as she stepped out into the early morning sunlight, she quickly swiveled on her feet to face George and poked her tongue out at him. She only caught a brief glimpse of a wide smile and wider eyes before she slammed the door closed. Laughing loudly so he could hear her, she trotted out into the street, heading for the Palace road.

***

The Palace Road was a large causeway which allowed for mercantile traffic to easily make it from the gates to the palace. That was its intention, anyway, or so George had told her when he had mentioned it to her this morning. She had initially thought about using the Thieves Road to make her way back to the Dove, but George had reminded her of just how maze-like the thin alleys were. Even more so than the slums that they were currently hiding in – dead ends, twists and turns; only someone with intimate knowledge of the Road…like a certain King of Thieves…could traverse the warren with any real confidence, and she most certainly was not willing to let George come along with her. So he had suggested that she make her way north, which would eventually allow her to stumble across the Palace Road.

As George had said to her, while the road itself had been designed to be wide enough that large carts could travel in from the one wall of the city to the palace itself. In reality, however, soon after it had been built people had realised the opportunity it presented, and the road had soon become one of the largest bazaar's in Tortall, second only to the wide avenues of Port Caynn. It still remained as a viable method of transport, but it was almost always crammed with people – large carts _certainly_ couldn't pass along it anymore. More importantly, however, it had remained as an excellent way for people to travel from one corner of the city to the other, from the north west to the south east. 

Which was, in a sense, just the way Alanna was traveling. She hoped to be able to find the Palace Road, travel along it in a south-easterly direction for a while, and then hop off it into the north east region of the city, where the Dove was located. The purpose being that on the incredibly slim chance that she were to be recognised, it would be almost impossible to track where she had come from. The Palace Road was, as all bazaars were, crowded with people at almost any time of day. 

Sure enough, she'd hit it easy enough – in the end it was rather simple; just follow the noise. She'd been along the road once or twice in the past; not for any length of time however, just quick dashes out into the wider and straighter road until she'd found where she needed to cut across, so it wasn't _particularly_ intimidating to be amidst so many different people and stalls. Still, it was most certainly uncomfortable, but that was only natural.

An hour later of walking – _perhaps weaving would be a better way of phrasing it_, she thought with a grunt - and she still hadn't spotted the landmarks that George said would tell her when to find a way off the street. It was becoming impossibly frustrating, having to push and contort one's way through the throng of people that seemed to completely fill the road ahead of her. For the first mile or so she'd been quite courteous about it, willing to wait till someone allowed her through, always making sure to say 'excuse me' when she needed to push her way through. But now? Oh no – the 'excuse me's were probably left on the ground after about the fifth time she had to pick herself up off of it. She'd been seriously entertaining the idea of using her Shang skills to knock a path for herself at some stage, and to be honest the idea was looking more and more appealing as time went by.

"Move it!" she grunted to a very wide man in front of her, "Get out of the way!" Pushing her way past him, she felt a hand at her belt pouch. Again. Her hand snaked down to the pickpocket's own in a flash, and she grasped the fingers with the same kind of viciousness that she had with the other four or five who had attempted it. Spinning on her heel, she put on her angriest expression (which at the moment wasn't all that hard to conjure up), and all but growled at the young thief. "There's nothing but bread and cheese in there," she whispered through clenched teeth, "If you're willing to have a finger or two broken for it, I'll share some with you." She squeezed the hand a little harder to emphasise the point.

The youth's large brown eyes widened in surprise, before he shook his head violently, managing to stutter out an answer. "N-no…t-that's alright." 

"Good. Now go away, and next time try someone who looks a little bit more like they have coin on them." The youth nodded vigorously, and she let his hand go. She almost laughed as said appendage seemed to snap backwards like a bowstring, the boy himself disappearing from sight faster than she could notice. Clucking her tongue, she wished she could do that as well. "Damn crowds."

Glancing into a few stalls along the way – since she was moving so slowly anyway, Alanna _finally_ caught sight of one of the landmarks George had pointed out to her. As she had been passing a fish vendor, something which was easier than most other stalls in the Road thanks to it's _awful_ stench, she had glimpsed a tavern on her left with a large painted sign proudly denoting it as the 'Gilded Goblet'. George had told her that this was the second one she should keep an eye out for, so she'd obviously missed the first one. Embarrassing, yes, but thankfully no-one else had to know about it; besides, she'd found this one, hadn't she?

So, keeping George's instructions in mind, she kept walking down along the Palace Road, winding her way through the crowds as quickly and as smoothly as she could. Slapping away the hands of a number of pickpockets along the way. She didn't try to chastise them too much, after all – she liked thieves, she most certainly didn't have anything against them, but she did wonder why they kept trying to take something from her. "If I were a pickpocket," she grumbled to herself, "I'd look for a target who _wasn't_ wearing plain clothes and only carrying a single pouch worthy of notice." In fact, she'd even been tempted to 'teach' the young pickpockets the proper way to choose one's target, until she realised that not only was she not particularly proficient at the task in question, but there was probably a slightly dubious ulterior motive behind the young pickpocket's actions. Something which was drilled home for her when a slightly older boy grinned devilishly when she caught him…caught him when his hand wasn't anywhere _near_ her belt pouch. She'd glared at him, before twisting his wrist as she let him go. His little yelp of pain had been adequate payment for his – and his fellows – rather piggish behaviour. __

Thankfully, however, soon after this last 'incident' she'd noticed the final landmark, a rather familiar looking fountain. She hadn't realised it at the time George had mentioned it to her, but standing in front of it now…yes, she knew that this was the same one. The very fountain which she had stopped beside on her first day in Corus, the fountain that Olly had leapt up and down upon to get her attention. She let a smile slip onto her face; how things had changed since that day. 

After a moment's reminiscing, she trotted away in the direction of the Dove – she knew her way from here at least; Olly's directions must have stuck in her mind. So she made her way off the Palace Road, thankful in the extreme to have gotten away from the crush, and headed north.

***

And sure enough, a few minutes later she was once again in sight of the Dove. It was strange, but this had really been her home for the past few months – really the only place that had felt like a 'home' since she had left Trebond all those years ago. Shang training was far too hard for one to settle down at all, her quarters in the Shang village were more a 'refuge' than a home. So she'd missed the place, this rather drab inn which was actually the home to one of the most powerful groups in Corus.

With that in mind, she found it quite difficult not to simply run to its' wooden doors, throw them open and sit down at a table. She had to be patient, to be cautious and above all – be observant.  So she began to…well…observe, looking around the area to see if she could see anything which looked in any way suspicious. Of course, suspicious was rather a relative term; especially since one of the things she was supposed to be wary of was any potential 'opportunistic thieves', which were a little difficult to spot out of a crowd, to be honest. But still, she looked, and did so for quite a long time – and didn't catch sight of a single Guardsman. Which was definitely good news.

After about fifteen minutes of watching, she decided that she'd probably done enough so far – there was patience and caution, but she felt that staying out here any longer would make _her_ look suspicious more than anything else. With a final glance around the area, she headed towards the Dove's wooden doors, pushing them open once she got there.

So far so good.

The sight which greeted her, as well as the various sounds and smells, were so familiar to her it almost ached. She'd taken this place for granted when she had lived here, or so it seemed to her – she supposed that _any_ place she had been living in before that tiny, dirty hovel would feel like a palace in comparison. But still – the Dove was something that she'd think more on once she returned here, the people who lived here alongside her especially. One of which was sitting in front of her as far as she could tell, his rather familiar back presenting itself in such a _nice_ fashion. A number of wicked thoughts came to mind – how best to play a trick on dear old Riven? – but she decided that doing any of them might cause far too much attention to be drawn to her. The Dove wasn't filled to capacity as it was almost every night, but there were still a fair number of people milling around, any one of which could be one of these opportunistic thieves. No, it would be better to just keep things as quiet as she could.

Still, she wanted to have a little fun with the lad. He deserved it, anyway – she wasn't sure as to why at the moment, but she had faith in Riven's ability to be annoying. He'd tell her something at some stage which would justify her actions, she _was_ sure of that. She quietly made her way to the table that he was sitting at, ensuring that he didn't get a glimpse of her before she wanted him to. Satisfied that she had succeeded in this, she stealthily slipped into a vacant chair beside the youth.

To her dismay, he didn't even notice her. So she poked him, hard, in the shoulder. _That_ thankfully got his attention, and he turned towards her. "Hello." She said quietly, a wide grin stealing over her face – more from his immediate reaction than anything else. Riven's eyes seemed to increase tenfold in size, almost bulging out of his skull. His mouth initially dropped open, before it began to open and close like a fish.

"'Lanna?" he asked softly, rubbing his shoulder. "W-what are you…? Where?" He didn't seem to be able to finish a thought, which seemed incredibly funny to her at the time. Riven must have noticed this, and he finally composed himself, shooting her a glare as he eventually came up with a coherent sentence. "That hurt."

"Maybe," she replied, still grinning. "But from where I'm sitting it was very funny."

His glare dissipated with that, and he chuckled softly. "Crooked God bless me! It's good to see you again." He smiled at her, putting his hand on the table. She took it, and he leant over to embrace her, slapping her on the back. "What happened to you?" he asked while they were close together, "Where did you go?"

When he pulled away from her, she bit her lip. She needed to tell him, of course, him and Nelly – but they couldn't do it out here. "Kitchen?" she asked while tilting her head in the direction of said room. It wasn't the safest place to talk; after all, some of the serving girls or the cooks could be in someone else's pocket, but it was safer than out here, anyway. Riven nodded, and the two of them stood, before making their way over to the other side of the room, slipping into the kitchen as discreetly as they could.

"Get out!" came a roar from Nelly, who Alanna could see marshalling the various serving girls as was usual. "Get out!"

"Look who it is, Ma." Riven replied softly, completely ignoring the rather vicious sounds that had emanated from his mother. "It's 'Lanna."

"Eh?" his mother grunted in response, coming over herself to have a look, "Why so it is!"

"Nelly." Alanna stated simply in response, ducking her head in greeting.

The other woman smiled slightly, "You're lucky I didn't clear out your room, Girl. I almost did, you know." She turned on her heel, moving back into the heart of the kitchen to boss some of the cooks around, "Taking off like that without a word! I don't know, you young people these days have no respect for your elders…"

"Don't worry," Riven whispered to her, "She's happy to see you. She was very worried about you and George, you know."

"Did she almost clear out my room?" she asked him in a similar whisper, "I was worried about that, actually."

He shook his head, "Nah. She considers you part of the family now, I think. She wouldn't clear away your stuff any more than she would the stuff George keeps here or…" he frowned, "I would say mine, but I think she'd be all too willing to do away with my gear."

Grinning in response, and thankful for the news that her equipment _hadn't_ almost been lost, she pulled Riven into a corner of the room. "Me and George were holed up in a safe place that he knew about for the last few days. We're fine, both of us, but there was a bit of a problem for a while."

"What?" Riven asked, glancing around to make sure no-one else was listening to them.

"Well, do you remember hearing anything about this incident that George and I went to 'clear up' about a week ago now? The one at the magistrates house?" Riven nodded, "It was a set up. Someone named Pilkar was waiting for George, and we had to fight our way out of the situation. The magistrate had been murdered already, and Pilkar somehow managed to get George framed for his death. A warrant was issued for his arrest, and so we had Guardsmen on our backs for a while."

Riven swore under his breath, shaking his head at the mention of both Pilkar and the Guardsmen. "They still after you?" he asked her softly.

She bit her lip again – how to phrase this? As far as she knew, Riven didn't know that 'Johnny' was in fact Prince Jonathon. How could she tell him that they'd got the warrant revoked so quickly without revealing this? Maybe she shouldn't even try to explain it – "We're not sure. The warrant is going to be revoked at some stage in the near future – the person who's doing it said that they'd try to do it today, but we don't know exactly when the orders will be passed down." Riven nodded in understanding, "But we want to return here, both of us do. The problem being-"

"The problem being you're still worried about Guardsmen about the place," Riven finished her thought, "Yeah, I see that."

"Not just that, though." She added, "George was worried about certain rivals of his among the Court trying to take advantage of the warrant to bring him down. He was worried that perhaps if he returned to the Dove that maybe some opportunistic individuals might try and hand him over."

He nodded at that; he probably understood the shifting political nature of the Rogue better than she did, actually – but then he frowned. "What do you think we should do?" 

Grimacing, she leant back against the wall. "I don't know, really. Have you gotten any word of any such attempt against George?"

"No, but then if the person who was planning it was careful, I shouldn't expect to."

"What about Guardsmen?" she asked, trying to get a better understanding of the situation. "Seen any of those around?"

Riven shook his head, "Not at all. Not that they come around these parts much anyway, but no-one's been staking the place out as far as I can tell. But still, it's probably not best to come in through the front door at the moment."

"Maybe Nelly's got some ideas?" Riven nodded at that, and they tried to push their way through the clamour and energy of the kitchen to find the woman in question. Once they found her, Alanna related the same information that she had told Riven, finishing with a single question. "Any thoughts?"

The older woman scratched her chin, thinking it over, before she softly nodded in reply. "I've got one, though it's very simple. I can leave the window to your room open, and the two of you can try and climb into it."

Alanna frowned, it _was_ rather simple – but simple plans tended to work better than very complicated ones. "Can we climb up that wall?" She asked, wondering about whether the idea was at all feasible; it's all very well and good having a simple plan, but if even this simple plan is infeasible, then it may well be better to think of something else.

Nelly nodded softly, "I think so. There's a lot of gaps between the wood on that side, water damage and the like. Have a look at it yourself, if you'd like."

"What about a rope hanging down from it?" Riven suggested, "Just something for this afternoon, or whatever. To make it a bit easier."

"Maybe," Nelly conceded, "But we'd only want it to be there for a few moments. Leaving it hanging off the side of the building all day is not something which is normal. It'll attract attention, not to mention random people climbing up into your room, Alanna." 

It was Alanna's turn to nod, understanding the problems inherent within that idea. "I'll take a look at the wall." She said softly, "See if it's possible to climb up." Nelly smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. Alanna smiled in reply, and shot Riven a questioning glance. "You coming?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He followed her out, through the common room to the front door once more – Alanna making sure to keep her head down as she went on the off chance someone might recognise her. She opened the doors and, after a cursory glance around to ensure that no Guardsmen were laying in wait, headed around the side of the building with Riven in tow. 

She eventually found the patch of wall that Nelly obviously had been referring to, just where she used to train in the mornings in the side alley. The wall was indeed rather water damaged, with bulging wooden beams standing out from the rest of the woodwork. She thought that it could be possible for her to clamber up the side of the wall, but George might be a shade too heavy to do so – the wood was _very_ damaged from what she could tell, it seemed to almost be rotting from within. She wasn't sure it would hold up to his weight. "What do you think?" She asked Riven, wondering what the youth thought about it.

Riven shrugged. "I don't know. I think it'd be easier with a rope, anyway."

"You heard what your mother said. I think she's right on it, too."

"Yeah, maybe." He responded quietly. "But what if it didn't have to be up there all day?"

She turned to look at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I could hang around in your room for the day, and when you and George come by I can lower a rope to you." 

Alanna thought it over; it did make sense, and it was defiantely better than seeing whether or not this wood stood up to George clambering all over it. "Good idea," she eventually replied, "I think it'll work alright, as long as we don't have to wait down here too long."

"No, no. I'll be ready, don't worry about that. Just don't take too long to get here."

She grinned, "Are you saying that we're slow?" 

"Maybe." Riven smirked at her, "If I come out and say it straight you'll probably hit me, though."

"I'll probably hit you anyway," she shot back, laughing as she did. A sudden thought struck her, "And if I find out that you've touched any of my stuff while you're in my room, then you _will_ most certainly be in some pain. And I won't teach you anything."

"You don't anyway!" Riven cried, "So that's not a particularly good threat now, is it?"

"Hrumph. Well…" she couldn't really argue with that. She'd always believed that Riven would more likely hurt himself if she taught him anything. "Don't touch my weapons, anyway." She clarified, beginning to walk down back around to the front of the Dove. "And be ready when we get here, alright?"

Riven nodded, "As I said, don't worry about it. I'll be ready." She was satisfied with that, although she suddenly got the feeling that maybe it wasn't the best idea to be trusting Riven on this. A feeling which was only strengthened when she heard his laughter from behind her. "Can I at least try on your clothes?" He called out, still laughing.

Rolling her eyes, she chuckled under breath. "You're an idiot, Riven." She shouted, not stopping or turning around to do so. He _was_ an idiot at times, but it was good to hear his annoying comments and jokes once more; he was a _fun_ idiot at that. Something which she'd not had enough of lately, or so she thought, amongst all this tension and drama.  

"Is that a yes?"

It's good to be home… 

***

She'd made her way back to the hovel after that, winding her way back along the Palace Road as she did so. It was a little bit harder to find her way this time, as she didn't have any landmarks to go off, instead having to rely on her memory of distance she had traveled this morning. In the end, she didn't even bother – walking the length of the Road until she hit the Palace. From there she had a basic recollection of where to go, and was able to finally make her way back to the lower city and the safe-hovel-thing. 

It was still as disgusting as it ever was, but in comparison to where she had just been, it felt even _more_ disgusting in some ways. George had, by the time she reached it, effectively removed any trace that they had been there at all; in fact going as far to actually meet her outside of it rather than allowing her to go back inside it once more. 

"What if I didn't have good news?" She asked him once they'd begun moving off once more, "What if we couldn't go back to the Dove today?"

George had grinned, "I don't know. I just know that I wasn't going to stay in that place another moment longer."

She'd tried to be stern with him, to tell him that at least he was safe there, but she couldn't help the fact that she agreed with him entirely. If the danger had subsided – however slightly this may actually be – she would have been out of there in a flash. Unlike her, George had been stuck in that place for the past five days without leaving it once. No, she couldn't blame him at all. So she'd told him the 'plan'; that they'd make their way to the Dove, where Riven would be waiting for them with a rope into Alanna's room. After that? Well, that was another matter, but at least they'd be in the Dove without drawing a lot of attention to themselves… Hopefully.

"You're more trusting then I would have been," George had grumbled to her once they made it onto the Palace Road, "Leaving Riven to take care of things like that."

"Yes, well. I thought that he could handle staying still for a few hours and then handing a rope down to us." She replied, smiling. She had, of course, thought exactly the same thing an hour or so beforehand, but she found the whole thing rather amusing. "Or at least, I _hope_ he can deal with _that much_ responsibility."

He had simply snorted, repeating his earlier comment. "Like I said, you're more trusting then I am." 

***

It turned out that they didn't need to worry, as Riven had been ready for them when they arrived at the Dove. George and she had repeated her earlier actions in ensuring that no-one was about who might threaten them before they made their way over to the Dove, where the two of them slipped quickly into the side alley and out of sight of the main road. She had George try and climb a section of the wall, just to test her earlier thoughts, and sure enough the wood splintered under his weight. Thankfully this splintering wasn't enough to cause any _real_ damage to the building; otherwise Nelly would have had her head on a platter. Still, at least they knew now that they needed Riven and his rope, and they set about trying to attract his attention, finally settling on throwing small rocks at the window. 

Riven eventually noticed them, and within a few moments the two of them were clambering up the side of the wall and into the room

"Ah, its' good to be back." George exclaimed, lying down on the floor as he almost _rolled_ into the room. "Thanks Riven."

The youth had nodded in return, before turning on Alanna with a smile. "See? Worked well, didn't it."

"Yes Riven," she conceded, "it worked very well. Good work." Riven's smile widened, and she decided to deflate him somewhat; "You didn't touch my stuff, did you?"

"'Course not!"

"Then why is my sword in a different place than when I left here?" She asked. It wasn't actually, from what she could remember anyway; it had been almost a week since she had seen it, but she wanted to see his reaction.

She wasn't dissapoitned, as Riven again took on a likeness of a fish, this time with sweat beading on his forehead. To add to the youth's worry, she stood up lithely, cracking her knuckles. "I-I d-don't know what you're talking about, 'Lanna!" Riven stammered out, backing away from her. "Honest! I didn't touch it!" 

Letting her face shift from apparent anger to a wide smile, she nodded. "I know, I was just teasing you." She told him, before adding. "And I hope you didn't touch my clothes either."

Riven grinned at that, shaking his head in answer. "What are you two talking about?" George piped up from the floor, "And why would Riven want to go through your clothes anyway."

"Never mind," Alanna replied, "Just something the little idiot here said earlier." Riven apparently took exception to the use of the word 'little', but she cut him off before he could say anything. "Can you go and tell Nelly that we're here? Discreetly?" she asked, hoping that it would keep him occupied for a short while at least. The youth seemed to think on it for a moment, before nodding his head and ducking out the door. Once he had gone, she exhaled heavily and sank backwards onto her bed. Her _oh so comfortable_ bed – she almost fell asleep straight away. 

"Tired?" George asked from the floor, "I know I am."

"Well get you back to your room soon enough," she replied, "We'll just wait until the rush has died down a little. Early afternoon should be alright for that."

"Aye, after lunch but before the night crowd comes in, good thinking. Still, we've got a few hours to waste."

"Uh huh, although I was thi-" she couldn't finish the thought, a large (and loud) yawn emerging instead. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking of just looking over some of my things, actually. Sharpening weapons and the like."

"Maybe a nap's a better idea," George pointed out, "I think we're both pretty tired."

"I'm fine," she responded, "But if you want to…? I mean, I can use the floor and you can have the bed if you want, that's fine."

"No, no. I wouldn't want to put you out. I'll help you with what you're doing."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes," he replied to her question, continuing with an after thought; "And I think I'm going to have to teach you again about accepting what your friends say to you." 

She grinned at that – well, he _had_ said that being her friend entailed his constant reminders to accept what he had told her about herself. "Alright then," she replied, shifting to the side of the bed and pointing at a small bundle that lay near the wardrobe, "Pass me that over there, would you?"

***

"Pretty clean," she said, holding up one of her knives. After an hour or two of polishing, sharpening and cleaning her weapons and equipment, Alanna could defiantly say that things were as clean as they had ever been. "Good work us, I say."

George snorted from beside her, "I think you gave me the sword with half a mind on the fact that you'd finish before I would. You like beating me, don't you?"

"Don't be silly, George." She replied, smirking slightly, 'I gave you the sword because I knew that it was in pretty good touch already..."

He apparently didn't believe her – drat him and his powers of observation - "So you don't enjoy beating me?"

Her smirk grew wider, "I never said that." 

"No, no. Of course you didn't."

"I do it so well, though, don't I?"

"Aye lass," George replied, chuckling to himself, "That you do."

She lay back on the bed, arms crossed under her head. She _was_ tired now, if she hadn't been earlier at least, and was wondering how long it would be till they could get George back to his room. She didn't think that it would be particularly courteous of her to fall asleep while he was here, after all. He probably wouldn't mind, but…she didn't particularly feel right in doing so. Besides, he was an extra set of hands when it came to looking after her equipment, something which she'd not done enough of recently. Her justification had always been that so far she hadn't really _needed_ any of it here in Corus, but she knew that this wouldn't hold up for much longer. She would probably need the knives and the sword fairly soon…

Her eyelids drooped, and she forcibly pushed them back, blinking as she did so. _Don't fall asleep!_ "George," She called out – _yes, talk. Talking is good, keeps one awake. _"How's it looking?"

"Like a sword." He replied flatly. 

She rolled her eyes, "Very amusing."

"Thank you."

"Can I have a look at it?" She asked.

"Don't trust me with it, eh?" He responded, an amused lilt to his voice.

"We're not supposed to trust _anyone_ with our weapons, George." She replied truthfully. "A Shang is never complacent."

George snorted, "Sounds like a Shang is never supposed to trust anyone else."

"We're not, not really. Apart from other Shang at any rate." Thinking back to her training, she tried to remember certain phrases that Liam had drilled into her time and time again, "'Trust can lead to Reliance. Reliance can lead to oneself being unprepared'. And, well – the next step is obvious." _Death_.

"Sounds like a fun way to live one's life." 

She smiled sadly, "We're not supposed to have a fun life," she replied, "To be a Shang is to be alone. In principle, anyway."

"And in practice?"

"In practice we're taught something far more appropriate. That _not_ trusting someone is equivalent to relying only on oneself, which can lead to – among other things, exhaustion." And hadn't she learnt that as the truth since she had left the Shang village? Trusting others wasn't equivalent to reliance, trusting others was just sharing the burden. "Trusting other people to do things isn't wrong, but it can leave one open for harm."

George made a sound that sounded like agreement, "Well, that's true for life in general. Not just for a Shang."

"Do you trust other people to help you run the Rogue, George?" She asked, wondering what his own philosophy on the matter was. "I would imagine that in that situation it's hard to trust others."

"It's hard, yes. You have to be careful about who you trust; placing your trust in the wrong person can easily lead to bad results, but not trusting anyone is almost always worse. Isolation means that rather than just a few individuals _possibly_ turning on you, they all will. If you don't trust people, then no-one trusts in you to do your duty."

"Is that what you see it as? A duty?" she scooted to the side of the bed to look at him.

He looked up at her face, and nodded. "Aye, Some of the time. Just as some of the time it's a thankless burden, while other times it's a calling. But I guess that it's all of them together; it's both a weight and a joy to be the Rogue." He added, shrugging. She agreed with that; in many respects it had encapsulated what she had felt while at the Shang village – at one time it could feel both a blessing and a curse that she had been allowed to join their ranks. Now, at least, things were a little different – the freedom which she had now allowed her to do what she wanted, in many regards. "I guess it's like being a Shang. Sometimes it's the greatest thing in the world, sometimes it's just a pain. Not that I'd know or anything, but to me it seems that way." 

She nodded, "It is, from what I've heard anyway. I'm still very new at this, being a wandering Shang away from the training village – it's been…what? One and a half months or something? I haven't really done anything yet." It was the truth, she hadn't. She remembered Liam telling her about some of his actions after he'd been raised to Warrior, about the lives he'd saved and everything. And what had she done? Not a great deal – she'd driven the raiders from Innesvale, well at least she _hoped_ she had. There'd not been any reports of them returning at any rate – but was that it? 

"That's not true, lass." George said to her softly, "You've done a great many things."

"Nothing besides confuse myself, I think." She replied flatly, "And most of what I've done here in Corus has been rather selfishly motivated."

"To what? Find out about your brothers death? I don't think that anyone could fault you for being selfish in that case, Alanna. Besides, you said it yourself, you've only been doing this for a little over a month! You've got years to go yet, years to do good deeds and help people."

She smiled at that; he was right – although possibly not with the 'years and years' idea. Shang never were particularly long lived, after all. But she knew he was right, she was being too hard on herself. "Thanks George," she said a few moments later. "I guess you're right on this. I hope you are, anyway."

"My pleasure, and I know that I am." Her friend replied, after a beat adding; "Now are you going to trust me with your sword?"

Alanna responded with a chuckle. "Not a chance. Hand it over." She held out her hand, and with a mock glare, George handed it over to her along with the whetstone. She rolled her eyes at him, which elicted a laugh from him, before taking a long look at the blade in her hands. It looked alright as far as she could tell, though it could definitely use a little more sharpening. She'd have to check the balance on it in the morning at any rate, but she knew that already. 

"Do I pass inspection?"

She grinned, "Just barely." It was at that moment that a knock at the door sounded. With a harried glance down at George, who had already begun to slide himself under her wooden bed, she licked her lips. "Who is it?" she called out after a short second, hoping that George had managed to get himself out of sight by now.

"It's me!" came the cry, and she let out a relieved sigh. Tapping the bed with her hand as she rose to her feet, she made room for George to extricate himself before opening the door to Riven, albeit only opening it a tiny bit of the way. "There's someone here to see you." 

She glanced back at George, before pointing at herself. "Me?" Riven nodded, "Who is it?"

"It's George's merchant friend. You know, Johnny."

Turning around to George once again, she thought over things quickly. "He wouldn't have come here unless he had good news."

"What if he couldn't get it revoked," George countered, "He'd come then, wouldn't he?"

She bit her lip, he was right. "So what do we do? He can come up here, that'll be safe, right?" But what was George to do?

"I suppose," George was obviously wondering the same thing as she was, "Riven!" he called out, moving to the doorway to look at the youngster. "Is there anyone around wandering up here?"

Riven looked around for a second, before shaking his head. "No. There's no-one around."

George nodded, "Alright then, I'll try and make my way back to my room." He turned slowly to Alanna, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll come down in about ten minutes, alright? See how things went."

"Alright, that sounds good." She replied, smiling. "Riven? Can you send Johnny up?" she asked the youth, who nodded in reply before disappearing from sight. She turned her attention back to George, who was quietly glancing down the hallway himself. "Clear?" she asked.

"Looks like," he replied, before squeezing her shoulder. "Good luck, lass." He added, before he too slipped from sight and out into the hallway. She could barely even hear his footfalls as he stealthily made his way towards the stairwell at one end of the hall. 

She closed the door behind him, and turned back to the room. "Mithros, what a mess." She mumbled to herself, before she quickly attempted to gather up all the various pieces of equipment that had been strewn about the room. In the end she simply piled it all onto her bed, hopeful that Jon wouldn't care in the slightest what her room looked like. Not that it really mattered, of course…just that she didn't want Jon to think that she was a slob, did she? No, certainly not. She took a quick glance in the mirror, wincing as she realised how absolutely disgusting she looked. Sleeping overnight in a dirty, smelly hovel, walking all day then lying down for an hour or so in the same clothes. She was a mess…and no amount of last minute preening was going to change that. _Ugh_. Still, she was never really very pretty to begin with, so maybe it didn't matter all that much.

Footsteps neared the door, and she forced herself to calm down. When the knock at the door came, she smoothly opened it just enough to see who it was, before opening it wider when she noticed that it was Jon. "Hi," she said in greeting, letting a smile come over her face.

He responded in kind, before coming to a stop in the centre of her room. She closed the door behind him and moved to where he was standing. He looked at her, she looked at him – it was only then she realised how awkward everything was. Did they hug each other, or what? They couldn't kiss, obviously – although she definitely _wanted_ to, but…Jon appeared to be as confused as she was, glancing around the room as he stood in front of her. "This is stupid," she told him, smile growing wider as she realised just how true that was; it _was_ stupid. They were friends, after all, they shouldn't feel awkward around each other. But were they _more_ than friends? She didn't know; she just decided to do what felt right and what – she hoped, wouldn't be 'overstepping' anything. She moved towards him, thankful to see that he didn't shy backwards, and held her arms out. A smile spread across Jon's face, and he too held his arms out. She pressed herself into him, and he brought his arms down around her in a warm embrace. Her eyes closed – this was contentment, she could feel it.

 "I'm glad to find you here, actually." He said softly to her, "I was halfway here before I realised that you might not have returned just yet."

"We only got back an hour or so ago, actually." She replied, soaking in the feeling of being this close to him again. This probably was stepping over the boundary of 'just friends', she knew that – but she didn't want to break it. She'd let him make the first move, "How'd things go?"

"Well, I went down to the Courthouse last night." Suddenly, he laughed, the reverberations spreading throughout his body and into hers. "You should have seen all the clerks and Magistrates! I had to rouse them all from their sleep; I can tell you that they weren't very happy with me."

"So it's done?" She grinned as she felt him nod above her, "That's good." 

"Yes. The Magistrate told me that the orders would be passed down to the Guardsmen this morning, so hopefully there's no-one out there still searching for George." His hand started to move on her back, stroking up and down, toying with her hair. "Which is good."

"George was saying that it'll probably take another day or so for word to reach all of the thieves, so we've…" she had to take a deep breath, the sensations that Jon was creating were too…_nice_. It was nice just to be this close to him again, actually. "So we've almost gotten out of the woods, I suppose." She finally finished.

Jon nodded again, before he chuckled slightly. "We probably shouldn't be doing this, should we?" he asked softly.

She tilted her head up, looking at the bottom of his face. "Probably not." She agreed, mentally adding _doesn't mean I want to stop._ Jon was right, though, they shouldn't be doing this – not so soon anyway. It did feel nice, but nice wasn't enough a lot of the time. With a sigh of resignation, she moved away from him. Her smile had slipped, but she tried to force it back on again. "Thanks, Jon." 

"Anytime." He replied, looking at her as well. Another silence followed, this one not quite as awkward as the previous one, as Jon looked around the room. "You don't have a lot of stuff in here." He eventually said to her.

She shrugged, "I didn't bring a lot of stuff with me. A few changes of clothes, my equipment, that's about it." She glanced around the room as she said it, pointing to the various articles mentioned. When her eyes settled on her sword, she remembered another point that Jon was going to meet with her about. "Did you find out when the next ball or whatever is? The one when Roger has to attend?"

Jon seemed to wince for a short moment, before answering her question. "Yes, yes I did."

A long beat followed; "And?"

"And it's in four days," Jon continued after her prompting, "The night of the fourth day from now is a ball in which we're supposed to be entertaining a Carthaki delegation, something which Roger is going to be present for."

"Right," she thought it over, "Four days doesn't leave us much time, but I'm sure that we can come up with something that will work for it. All we really need to work on is a way for you to communicate with me in case Roger leaves the ball early."

"Well, there's something that's probably a little more pressing than that," Jon said to her, "More pressing in the sense of how are we going to get you inside the Palace to begin with."

She frowned, "That's easy enough. Why is that a problem?" She didn't understand it, "Can't you just tell the Guards to let me in?"  

"You know how I said that it was a Carthaki delegation?" she nodded, "Well they're…they're guests who are very, _very_ important. Tensions between the two nations are rather…high right now, and things are very fragile."

"So?"

"So the Guards' have been issued strict orders to refuse entry to anyone who doesn't have Royal Patronage to attend the event." 

"So can't you just issue me one of those?" she asked, still not understanding in the slightest. "Then I can just wander in and find my own way to Roger's chambers."

"Well, there's a problem with that." Jon replied, "In that such a Patronage has to approved by my 'Regents'. And by that I mean Uncle Gareth and-"

"-And Roger." She finished, "So in order for me to sneak into Roger's rooms, I need to get his permission." She added in disbelief.

Jon grimaced, "Pretty much."

She chuckled softly; it _was_ funny, just not in a particularly appealing sense. "What about the tunnel through the wall?" She asked, wondering why the thought hadn't occurred to Jon. "Surely they're not going to be guarding something they don't think needs guarding."

"Well, there's a problem with that, too. In that I set about re-casting the spells that cover it up this morning – before I knew when this ball was going to be. I thought that we'd have at least a week and a half to plan this, and the spells would have been done by then."

"Can't I get through it anyway?" 

"Not unless you want to risk the spell collapsing on you, or for Roger to be suddenly alerted to it's presence." Jon explained, "The spell is particularly dangerous at the moment, since I have to make sure that no-one else can detect it's being cast. Its' very, very…fragile I guess would be an accurate word, and it's this fragility which makes it too dangerous for anyone to try and travel along it."

Alanna sat down on the bed, suddenly overcome with despair. "So is that it?" she asked, "Does that mean that I can't get in? When's the next ball that Roger is required to be at?"

"I'm not sure of specifics," Jon replied, "But from what I can tell its' not for another two months."

"Two months?!" She sighed, _two months_?! Think of all the things Roger could have done by then – he could have removed any 'evidence' that she could find, either. And what of the Goddess? Could she wait that long either? No, Alanna didn't think so – but what else could they do? "Looks like we'll have to wait that long then, doesn't it?"

She didn't hear a reply, and looked up at Jon. He was wringing his hands anxiously, and she frowned. Noticing this, he began to pace. "There is one option that I've been thinking over," he said to her, "But I'm not sure if it'll work, and even if it does then it will really be our only chance to do it."

"What is it, Jon?"

"Well, it really boils down to winning over Roger and Gareth in getting them to issue you a Royal Patronage if I propose it. Now, neither of them knows you, not by name anyway, so I wouldn't expect them to be very receptive to the idea of me granting you one."

"Right, with you so far." She interjected, understanding the basics of politics. "So how can we get past that?"

"We give them something that they _want_." He told her as he stopped pacing, grinning at her confused expression. "They were both rather surprised when I broke off my engagement to Delia; especially since I never really explained to them just _why _I did it. So if…uhh…" he licked his lips, the grin faltering, "What I need to show them is that _you_ are that reason."

"What do you mean?"

"I can probably get them to agree to issue you a Patronage if they at least believe that you are going as, uh, my partner." 

"Huh." What else was there to say?

"I should tell you straight off that there's a few problems with this idea. The main one being that you'll have to look like you're traveling to a ball." At her blank expression, he explained. "The Guards take a thorough look through the carriages or whatever before allowing those with Patronages' to enter. It's a security measure, one which I used to be rather thankful for." he smiled at her.

Could she handle that? She supposed she could – she could always put on some clothes which allowed for a greater range of motion once she was in the Palace itself, "Alright, I can probably handle that. What else is there?"

"I assume that you do not wish to attend the ball," she nodded her head vigorously; she frankly couldn't think of something more horrific, "Right. So then I'll say something like…I don't know, that you're suddenly ill or whatever. Now, they won't accept that – but then again, they don't really need to. You will already have gotten in by then. The problem being that they'll probably be very interested in you after that, Roger especially will probably try and find out more about you."

"That's a problem," she responded, nodding jerkily in agreement. "That's a big problem." 

"So it's really this one time that we can get things to work. If we don't get the evidence that we need to oust Roger this time, then we're not really going to have a chance to do it again – and perhaps more worryingly, Roger might try and…" he trailed off, obviously not liking the answer.

"Dispose of me?" Alanna finished, and Jon nodded. "Right, so we either go this risky and revealing option, or we wait two months. Two months in which things might become risky and revealed anyway."

"We don't know that-"

"-But we don't know that things won't, either." She interjected, "Another two months of Roger signing decrees in your name to get rid of your allies? I don't like the sound of that at all."

Jon nodded, "Nor do I, but think of the risk that you're taking in the alternative! Roger's focus will be entirely on _you_ then, all his energy will be bent on trying to work out who you are if we fail!"

"Then we'd better not fail." She replied, shrugging. "It's as simple as that, really."

"Yeah."

"Any more problems?" She asked, "Anything more I need to know before we set things in motion?" 

Jon thought about it for a long moment, beginning to pace once more. "You'll need a proper dress," he said to her eventually, "I'll give you some money to get one. Do you know someone who can help you get it hitched up, or whatever?"

Frowning, she shook her head. "No, but- Why do I need a dress? I have one which…alright, granted it's not something that you'd wear to a Royal ball, but don't we need to just get by the Guards?"

"If the Guards are suspicious, they might begin to ask questions before you're even inside the Palace," Jon replied. "Can you find someone to help you with the dress? We don't have much time to get it done."

She nodded to that, "Uh, Eleni probably knows someone. I'll talk to her. But shouldn't we make sure that I'll be able to get in this way before-?"

"No, I'll be able to get you a Patronage, trust me on this." He laughed softly, "If I told them that a dog was my partner they'd probably grant it one."

"I don't think I like being compared to a dog," she said to him, a slight degree of amusement showing across her face. "Doesn't do much for a girl's ego."

"Oh, no! I didn't mean-!"

"I know, Jon. Breathe." She grinned, "Don't worry. I was just playing with you."

He smiled in reply, before moving closer to her and enfolding her in a tight embrace once more. "You're nothing like a dog. You're beautiful, you're strong, you're intelligent and you're incredibly brave. See? Nothing like a dog."

"I don't know, some dogs I've known are pretty intelligent." She teased, loving this feeling once more; both the feeling of being in his arms and this feeling of being complimented.

"Not like you, though." He responded as he let go of her, holding onto the tops of her arms, "Nothing like you."

"Alright, nothing like a dog." 

Jon grinned, "And don't you forget it." His eyes locked with hers, and they shared an intense look. His right hand trailed onto her face, tracing her cheekbone with a touch softer than silk. "I won't let you forget it." He whispered.

She blushed at that, closing her eyes at his touch. She wanted nothing more in the world for him to lean into her then and bring his lips to hers, but she knew that it would never happen. Which was a good thing, or so her head wanted her to believe. Things couldn't progress too rapidly; that was how they had been hurt the last time. She knew him better now than she had then, but was either one of them ready to deal with this now? No, she didn't think so. Her eyes opened, and she could see that Jon's eyes were filled with turmoil as well; she hoped with a similar conclusion being drawn. Still…she _wanted_ him to kiss her, she just knew that he shouldn't. 

"I'll try and talk to you tomorrow, alright?" he said to her softly, and she nodded. He brought his other hand up then, and she noticed that it held a small pouch. She frowned, "The money for the dress." He explained.

"Thanks," she said to him, taking it from him. With a final look into his eyes, she decided to ignore what her head was telling her for a moment, and stretched up to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. "Till tomorrow." 

He smiled at her, a small soft smile, and tilted his down towards her. "Be careful."

"Only if you are as well. I'll need someone to bravely distract the evil sorcerer while I sneak into his chambers, after all." She said to him, grinning. He laughed at that, and with a final glance at her, headed for the door. He opened it and headed out, and she sank onto the bed with a wonderfully warm feeling running through her. 

Almost immediately she heard a shout from outside; "Johnny!" Frowning, she smoothly lifted herself from the bed and moved towards the door. She almost opened it wide open, too, until she heard Jon's reply.

"George." 

So it was George out there who had called out to 'Johnny'. What did he-? Why did he want to talk to Jon? She was curious, but she was also slightly fearful of what might happen; should she stay here and listen in, or should she go out and intervene between them? 

"I just want to say something to you," She heard George continue, "You got a minute?"

Silence descended for a long pause, until Jon responded in the affirmative. "Alright, what did you want to say." She _really_ wanted to crack the door open, to get even the smallest glimpse of what was going on out there. Was George looking to…do something to Jon? She didn't think he would, in fact she _knew_ he wouldn't, but she was still worried that something bad might happen. She heard Jon chuckle ruefully, "Do you remember the last time we had a word here?" _Something like what had happened then…_

"I do," George replied, "And that's sort of why I want to talk to you." She heard him sigh loudly, "I shouldn't have said what I did that day. I won't say that I was wrong in what I said, but I shouldn't have said it. I'm not going to apologise to you, but I wanted you to know that."

"Oh. Thanks, I think." Jon said in return, and she could almost hear his confusion. She was confused as well – where was George going with this? "I too probably shouldn't have said what I did. I was just-"

"-Angry, yeah. I understand that. I was caught up with emotion too, though not anger."

"Then what?"

George obviously wasn't comfortable in answering that, "Look, what I wanted to do besides that was, uhm…"

"Hmm?"

"Treat her well, alright? She's happy with you, I know that, and I can live with that." George stated softly, almost whispering. "I guess I'll have to, won't I?"

"George-"

"No, Jon – just…be good to her." There was a bit of scuffling, they were moving or something, she couldn't tell what, and then footsteps leading away. She wasn't sure if _both_ of them had gone or what, and decided to crack the door open a little. As she did so, she saw George just outside, and he turned to face her. "I take it you heard all that?" he asked, and she nodded. "You weren't supposed to."

"Why not?" She queried, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak coherently.

"I just-" he sighed, "I didn't want you to feel obligated or anything. To rush into things with him because of what I said."

She smiled, "Thank you, George."

***

She'd told him all about the warrant after that, and a few minutes later he'd moved down into the common room of the Dove, hesitant to the extreme, eyes darting this way and that to ensure that no-one was waiting to snatch him away. She followed him down, in her own mind acting as a sort of bodyguard for him. They'd met with Riven and Nelly, and things had pretty well progressed as per a normal night at the Dove from there. George had met with a number of thieves and members of the Court of the Rogue, trying to 're-network', or so he had told her. She'd spent a lot of the time with Riven, talking about what had happened while she was gone, until she eventually retired to her room after only an hour or two. She was, after all, very tired, and a nice soft bed like hers' couldn't be denied. Just as she had lain down on the bed, she saw a small pouch next to the headboard. Opening it up, she discovered that it contained the herbs Eleni had given her to ward off the dreams. What was all the more interesting, however, was that she had not used them once, yet had not had a single dream since 'that night'. _How strange_…

What was the use in thinking over it, however? She certainly didn't know why it had happened – even the _goddess_ didn't know why the dreams had happened, so she should just get some rest. Which she did, laying her head down with great pleasure, eyes closing at the end of what had actually turned out to be a very good day.

The next morning had been rather hectic, as she had made her way over to Eleni's to discuss a number of different things. Firstly, Alanna felt she owed it to the older woman to explain recent…developments, as the woman had given her some good advice in the past – as well as some (probably) very good herbs. Secondly, and far less importantly, Alanna wanted to find the name of someone who could help her darken her hair again. More and more over the past week or so she'd noticed stray copper tips, something which she was rather concerned about. She had truly grown to like her hair the shade it was, and didn't really want to go back to having her natural hair colour any more. Eleni had mentioned that she knew someone who could do it, and Alanna wished to have it done prior to the night of the Ball. Which, granted, she wasn't actually going to be attending. But she wanted to look nice anyway; she was going to have to be made up to look like she was going to the Ball, wasn't she? And it certainly wasn't a crime for her to want to look her best. It certainly wasn't like she wanted Jon to see her dressed up in such a fashion, not at all.

Finally, she needed help in finding a dress which both looked good and fitted right. She'd counted the amount of coin Jon had given her and was astonished to see just how much it amounted to. Kings could probably afford to throw that sort of money around, she knew, but it still didn't detract from her discomfort and having to spend so much money on a single _dress_.

Once she had arrived and explained various things of note, Eleni had been more than thrilled to help her. Something which, initially, Alanna had been very thankful for. However, she was less thankful for the resultant schedule which Eleni drew up, monopolising her time for the rest of the day. She was worried, in the main, that she might miss Jon if he dropped around to the Dove later on in the day, but Eleni had dismissed any argument she had made.

"Do you know that he's actually coming?" She had asked.

"Well, no." Alanna replied, "But I'm sure-!"

"So you don't know that he's coming. And don't you think that if he really wanted to see you that he'd make his way over here?"

Alanna had frowned at that, "I guess so. But he's a very busy man! He probably can't waste the time to make his way over here!"

"Then you wouldn't have had all that long to talk to him anyway," Eleni countered, "In which case it's not that great a loss, is it?"

She just couldn't win, and had eventually given up trying to argue with the older woman. Instead she had given herself over entirely into her care, allowing herself to be carted too and fro. She'd been sat down at the kitchen table with a mug of honeyed tea and told to 'talk about things I don't yet know about' while Eleni had run around organizing how best to get through the day. She'd sent a neighbourhood boy around to various other women, holding in his hands various messages and a silver coin for his troubles, and Alanna had only gotten up to the night she and George had found out about the warrant when the first of Eleni's cohorts arrived.

"Alanna," she had said, "This is Lusa, and she's agreed to do your hair for you. So I'll leave you in her capable hands for now, but I'll be wanting to hear the rest of that story in a while, alright?"

She'd barely had time to throw out a "Thank you!" before Lusa had greeted her effusively, taking a handful of Alanna's hair as she did so. If that wasn't worrying enough, the old woman began to pull on it with a strength Alanna seriously remembered as being possessed by only the most heavily muscled of Shang Men. "Ouch!"

"Shush, child. It doesn't hurt, I'm just trying to get all these knots out. Calm down and we'll soon get it soaked up and ready." She'd then, with a little help from Eleni, prodded Alanna upstairs and into the bedroom that Alanna had remembered from the first time she had been here. A large bowl of warm water was procured – from where, Alanna couldn't tell – and she had her head forced backwards into it. "Now then, you just want it the same colour, is that right?"

"Uh…yes." 

Obviously not the answer the woman was looking for; "Oh, come now, dear! What about a softer shade of brown, hmm? Eleni tells me that you're a natural red-head, we could perhaps lighten that up a little?"

"No, no. Just black, thank you."

"Well then. Alright, dear – we'll see what we can do."

_See what we can do?_ How hard was it just making it black once again?! When she had done it months earlier, the small-time dyer in the Shang village had done it within minutes and with minimal fuss. She was increasingly having a bad feeling about this…

Moreover, the woman _just would not stop jabbering!_ Alanna must have refused about six potential suitors in the time it took for Lusa to scrub the black dye she had brought with her into her long hair. In the end she probably knew more about local happenings than most locals did! Thankfully, however, it didn't last forever, and the dye had soon been scrubbed in. She was, however, forced to wrap her hair in a piece of cloth for the rest of the morning, which severely reduced the amount of activites she could get done. This didn't bother her, mind you, but it certainly had Eleni in a twist – "What about the schedule?!" she all but screeched at Lusa. "We've got to get her out into the markets in an hour!"

Lusa had eventually given in, saying that if she was careful with what touched her head, she'd be able to take the cloth off after an hour and a half. Eleni had still been furious, but had agreed. Eventually. Alanna was quite happy with it, actually – it meant she'd have a little rest for a while. It was strange, but after having been immobile for the past twenty minutes or so as Lusa scrubbed things into her hair, she _really_ felt like she needed a rest. However it was not to be, with Eleni having the 'brilliant' idea of taking her measurements while she was waiting. She grumbled, slightly, but she knew Eleni was trying to do her a favour – so she acquiesced readily enough.

The measuring session was mercifully simple, and Alanna did end up having half and hour or so to rest before Eleni forced her onto her feet, removing the damp and dark cloth from her hair and prodding her out into the late-morning streets. They made their way through the markets, Alanna looking at what felt to be hundreds upon hundreds of dresses and styles. Eleni seemed to disagree with almost every choice she made, citing that such choices were "Unflattering", "Not particularly stylish" and once even "horrific" among other things. 

"What about this one?" Alanna eventually called out, spying a deep blue dress at the back of one dressmakers rack. "What do you think?" Eleni had taken a closer look, nodding over the stitching and the cut before calling the dressmaker out. This young woman had quickly offered to help them, and Eleni had ordered the poor girl to get the dress out as soon as she could, grabbing it quickly and holding it up to Alanna.

"Not bad," she had said. "Not the best – I think we'd need to find something in a green for that, but it'll do on such short notice."

Alanna almost passed out in relief; it felt like they'd been out here for hours, doing something which Alanna honestly knew nothing about. After a good five minutes more eyeballing from Eleni, they had agreed to get the dress, and Alanna had forked over the pouch to the young dressmaker.

"But this is too much, m'Lady." The girl had called out, 'The dress only costs about half this."

Rolling her eyes, Alanna had retrieved the pouch, shelling out half of the coins. "If that's too much," She growled, annoyed by the distraction, "Keep the rest of it, alright?" The dressmaker had counted the coins with wide eyes, nodding her head as Alanna and Eleni wandered away with the dress over their shoulders. Alanna hoped that things were all but over after that, but no – Eleni had a whole handful of 'alterations' that she felt were needed and, not surprisingly, she needed Alanna to be there as well. 

So she had stayed, spending a number of hours standing as still as a statue as Eleni and her seamstress friend stuck pins all over the place. They must have drawn blood a number of times as well, but after catching sight of a glare Eleni sent her way following Alanna's complaint at the first poke, she decided that it would be best to just grin and bear it. More inane conversation followed, although at least this time Alanna knew what they were talking about, chiming in with tidbits of gossip that she had remembered from what Lusa had said earlier.

About halfway through the fitting, a sudden thought struck her. "Would it be possible for you to make some…pouches or something on the dress?" She had asked, "I mean,  I don't plan on…uhhh…" she cut off suddenly, realizing the sheer insanity of claiming that she wasn't planning on wearing the dress for too long. These two women would _kill_ her if they found that out, Shang skills or not!

"Don't plan on what, dear?" Eleni had asked.

"Uh, I don't plan on…uh…_needing_ them, but it might be useful if I could keep a knife or something concealed here."

"Oh no," the seamstress had cried, "Doing that ruins the lines! You can't make a pocket for something so bulky as that!"

"She's right, dear. Sorry, but you'll have to go without your weapons." 

Alanna almost swore; _ruins the lines?_ She didn't care about how it looked, not really! A knife could save her life, and these women were acting as if looking her best was more important than living through the night of the Ball! Still, she supposed that she shouldn't blame them – they had no idea about what the dress would be utilised for; they had no reason to think that she'd _need_ knives in it.

Suddenly aware of where her own thoughts were going, Alanna frowned – she _didn't_ need knives in it. She wasn't going to wear it after she'd entered the Palace, or so she'd told Jon yesterday. Although…was that actually the sensible thing to do? As she was wearing it now, it wasn't _quite_ so restrictive as she had feared, and it _wouldn't_ attract as much attention if she were wandering about the Palace with it on. After all, it would be easier to claim that she had gotten lost from the ball if she looked like she should be at a ball than if she were wearing shirts and breeches. And-…no. She couldn't wear this while sneaking into Roger's rooms, it was just impossible to do. 

She almost didn't believe her own feelings at first, but she soon realised that such a decision was somewhat saddening to her. She _liked_ this dress, which was a real shock as it had only been a few weeks since she realised that she liked dresses _at all_. But she did like this one, the colour was…elegant, she supposed, and the – what did the seamstress call it? The 'cut' was flattering, or so she thought. Besides, it would be a shame to go through all this torture to find something which she only wore for an hour or so.

Oh well; there wasn't much she could do to help that. It _would_ be insane to go around the Palace wearing this, _especially_ since she couldn't carry any weapons on her. Or was that such a bad thing? She didn't _need_ weapons, after all – and she did like the thing. Maybe she should think about this a little more…

But not at that moment, as Eleni brought her back to reality by slapping her shoulder lightly. "Stop daydreaming, dear. We've finished." 

With a start, Alanna realised that the dress was indeed finished, all the pins that had been stuck into her now completely removed, the stitching so fine as to be almost invisible. From what she could see, it certainly looked remarkable – the work the seamstress had done was hardly even visible, and the dress _did_ look quite different than what it had in the stall. It was a little bit more revealing, from what she could tell, but she had moved beyond her fear of that – slightly. "Can I-?"

"See it?" Alanna nodded, "Yes dear, follow me." Eleni led her out into the other room, and Alanna followed. Movement wasn't that restricted, indeed – in fact she could probably even _kick_ in this thing if she had half a mind to. She didn't, of course, mostly because Eleni would – again – kill her if she so tried. But it was feasible, she felt. Maybe she _could_ go around in this. She stumbled on the hem, _maybe not…_ "Don't worry about the length, dear. Once you have some shoes on that will be fine."

"Shoes?" She asked quietly. She'd been hoping to wear her soft boots, but…alright, obviously those wouldn't fit into a ball. "W-what kind of shoes?"

"Don't make it sound so horrible, Alanna. They're nothing to be afraid of."

That, somehow, didn't really comfort her. But the thought dropped from her mind as she came into sight of herself in the large mirror Eleni had brought down from upstairs. Her mouth dropped open – she wasn't exactly _beautiful_, or so she though, but she certainly…she was certainly _pretty_. "Wow."

"Don't think so highly of yourself," Eleni chastised. "It's not becoming."

"I just said 'wow'." Alanna grumbled under her breath. "Where's the harm in that?"

"And don't mumble."

 Alanna continued to stare at herself in the mirror; the blue dress was really quite a contrast to her hair and eyes, something which seemed to…fit somehow. It was as if contrast was good in this situation, which was fairly odd – from what she had gathered from Eleni, anyway. But this…this _worked_. She looked…feminine, for lack of a better term. 

"Just sit over there, Alanna, and I'll fetch your shoes." Eleni pointed to a wooden chair, and Alanna lowered herself into it, remembering some of the lessons Eleni had taught her about dresses as she did so. She _certainly_ was pleased with the way she had come out, and she wasn't even entirely made up yet! Her hair was still very flaccid, and she _knew_ that detracted from her appearance. It really would be a shame to just wear it while entering the palace…

At that moment, a knock came from the door. Alanna briefly wondered whether it might be the seamstress, but she was still in the other room, wasn't she? No-one was going to answer the door, however, and eventually Eleni's voice sounded out from upstairs. "Could you get that, dear? I'm just busy up here at the moment."

Alanna shrugged, "No reason why not, I suppose." She mumbled to herself – briefly wondering whether Eleni could hear her _now_ – and rose off the chair. She hoped that the shoes Eleni was getting wouldn't restrict her movement any more than it was now, because currently this…this was actually quite free. She could do a lot of things in this dress, which she was pleased with. "I'm coming!" she shouted to the door after the person behind it knocked once more, and she soon grabbed onto the knob, twisting it and pulling the door open.

Open to the smiling face of Jon, whose expression swiftly changed to one of…_awe_. "Alanna?" he asked softly, as if not believing that it was her.  
She blushed deeply; she wanted him to see her in the dress, yes, but she didn't really want him to see her when she wasn't _ready_ to be seen. Which she certainly was _not_ right now. "Uh, hi Jon. What are you doing here?"

His mouth was still wide open, and she almost had to poke him – "What? Oh, I'm…uh…George told me that you were here, so I came by." She nodded at that, stepping away for the door to let him in. He did so, moving past her and into the house itself. Turning back to her, he took her in again from head to toe. "You look amazing, Alanna."

"Thanks," she said simply. "I should hope so, anyway. What with all I've gone through today?"

He chuckled, "Was it really that bad?"

"No of course it wasn't!" Eleni snapped from the stairs she was descending, brandishing a pair of shoes at Alanna, "She's just complaining because she's not used to it. But I tell you, Alanna, you'll soon realise that what you went through today is just a warm up for the real thing."

That really quite frightened Alanna, and it must have shown, as Eleni cackled loudly. "Well, whatever happened," Jon continued, "I can't believe the end result. You look….beautiful, Alanna."

Her blush, which had until now been fading, came roaring back. She just smiled shyly at him. "Sit down, girl." Eleni ordered, "Into the chair, come on." Alanna allowed herself to be prodded down once more, and Eleni had quickly slipped the shoes onto her feet. To her surprise, and to her liking, they weren't quite as delicate as she had feared. They were, in fact, rather elegant knee-high boots finished in soft leather. Seeing her astonished look, Eleni smiled at her. "Heh. Just in case you decide to get into some rather…unlady-like antics, I suppose these will stand up better than a proper shoe."

"Yes, they're wonderful." Alanna managed to stammer out, "Thank you, Eleni."

"Don't thank me yet, dear." The older woman had replied, a satisfied smile playing about her lips, "Especially not with what's to come."

Alanna almost feared to ask, but she did so. "Which is?"

"Ladies have pierced ears," Eleni pointed out, "You don't. You should, however. So we're going to pierce them." As she said this, she made for the table behind her, bringing forth a candle and a darning needle. 

"Oh no," her heart sank, "Please don't! I don't need my ears pierced!" Jon looked on in surprise, probably wondering just what was going on between these two women. Eleni lit the candle, holding the needle within the flame in an attempt to heat it. "Please no!"

"Don't make a fuss dear," Elenir replied, "And of course you need your ears pierced. Why a normal girl would have had hers' done years ago! And don't even think about complaining about the pain, because mighty Shang warriors aren't supposed to care about such things." Alanna was still _incredibly_ afraid of just what was going to happen, but she knew that she had been beaten. What more could she possibly do? Eleni turned on her heel, brandishing the red-hot needle with a smile. "Johnny?" Eleni called to Jon, "If you want to help, you might want to hold onto her shoulders."

Alannas' scream probably deafened half the neighbourhood…

***

Her ears were still on fire, with the freezing cold small metal studs Eleni had jammed in the newly created holes causing an incredibly painful contrast, but at least she had stopped crying now. Some of that probably did have to do with being wrapped up in Jon's arms, but – no, she was a Shang Warrior! She was strong! So…why did this hurt _so_ badly?

"Beauty is pain, dear." Eleni had proffered, although that _really_ didn't comfort Alanna. 

Jon had tried to comfort her in return, and he was a least slightly more successful. Still…Alanna still didn't quite see how pierced ears were necessary, but Jon hadn't been too quick to agree with her on that. "All ladies that I've ever seen wear earrings," he had told her, "It _would_ look strange if you didn't have any."

Thanks for the support, love.

She worried more about what was going to happen _after_ the ball, however. She _knew_ she was the only Shang Warrior with pierced ears now, which didn't really seem to be something to be proud of. Would anyone be able to take her seriously if she looked quite as pampered as she did now? Granted, most of her current look was a result of her dress and her tear-streaked face, but that wasn't the point! She couldn't undo these piercings; she was stuck with them! Something which she _did not _enjoy all that much. 

Sighing, she realised that there really wasn't much she could do about it now – it was done, she should deal with it. 

Eventually, Eleni had 'allowed' her to go back to the dove, although she left the dress and the boots behind. She had agreed to return on the night of the ball, to be dressed and made up by someone "With half a mind on what they're doing" Eleni had suggested. Jon had jumped at the idea, telling her that he'd have a carriage come out to meet her here.

"Why a carriage?" She had asked, "Why not just a horse?"

"Ladies get driven everywhere," Jon had explained, "If you don't have to use your own legs or your own arms, you don't. Having a lady ride up the gates of her own accord would be cause for suspicion on that basis alone."

So she had grudgingly agreed, and bid Eleni farewell. Jon had taken her hand as the two of them walked away from the house, and she hadn't objected. In fact, she'd leant in closer to him, and he had responded with a smile. It wasn't far from Eleni's to the Dove, and so Jon had told her that he'd walk her back. 

"So what news do you have?" she'd asked after a while, "Did you get the…uh, the Patronage?"

He nodded in reply, "That I did, and may I tell you how _anxious_ to meet you Uncle Gareth and Roger are?"

"Why does that not fill me with confidence?" she mumbled, to which Jon laughed. "Did you have to do much to get them to accept it."

"Not really. As I said, they're _very_ anxious to meet you – when I told them that I wanted to bring a 'certain lady friend' to the Ball, they practically jumped all over me to agree."

"'A certain lady friend'?" she repeated with a snort, "Nice phrasing."

"Well I couldn't exactly tell them that I wanted to bring the woman I loved, could I?"

She stopped suddenly, not so much stunned by his words but certainly stunned by the fact that he had said them. "Jon," she said softly, "You don't know how much it means to me for you to say that, but…but don't you think we should wait?"

"I do," he replied in kind, moving closer to her and taking her head in his hands, "But that doesn't mean I want to."

"I don't want to, either."

He smiled, "Then why should we?" 

"It's the right thing to do," she said, "It's rushing into things which made things so mixed up last time."

"But we got through that alright, didn't we?" he asked, "I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of having to stop myself from holding you. I want to do this;" he bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. She brought her hands up to grasp the back of his head, pushing it down onto her own, loving the passion of it. Eventually breaking away from he, his smile was as wide as hers, he continued. "I want to do _that_ all the time."

She grinned, "I know the feeling."

"I lied the other day, you know." He said to her, "When I said that I didn't know if I was in love with you anymore. That was a lie; I never stopped loving you, which is why it hurt so much. But I've gotten past that – what you said to me, what George said to me; I don't care about the past, all I care about is _you_."

"And I want to be with you," she responded, bringing her mouth back up to his again. This time the kiss was even deeper, more filled with passion as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He wrapped her into his arms again, lifting her clear off the ground for a time – the forcefulness of it all again making the moment even more passionate. She _loved_ it, she loved him. As she said to him once they again broke off, "I want to be with you because I love you." 

Jon's smile widened, "I know that things will probably be difficult, but I know we can make things work. And while it may be too early for us to…do this, I don't want to wait any longer."

She nodded, "I know, I know. And while I've thought about this a lot, the fact that we _should_ wait, I don't want to either."

He kissed the side of her neck, "I love you."

"Jon," she managed to gasp out; talking was _very_ difficult, or so she found. "I love you too, and I love what you're doing, but…"

"But?"

"But we're standing in the middle of the street." She giggled softly at his expression; as if he'd suddenly realised where they were. It was dark by now, but there was still a little light around. Things could be quite…awkward if they gave into their passion precisely where they were. 

"What are you laughing about?" Jon asked, a smile on his lips. He took her hand again – she gave it a gentle squeeze as he did so – and began to walk off with her again. 

"Just your expression," she responded as she leant into him, putting her head on his shoulder. "You look like…"

"What do I look like?"

She shrugged, "Some kind of small animal."

Jon snorted, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. "I'm far more manly than any small animal."

"It's a cute small animal," she added, "Does that make it alright?"

***

They'd shared another kiss, or four, around the corner from the Dove. Fortunately for their modesty, just as things were becoming rather heated, Jon had the misfortune to touch her ear. 

"Ouch!" Alanna screamed far too loudly.

"Oh! Sorry!" he tried to make things better by, of all things, rubbing the ear, but only succeeded in causing more pain. "Sorry."

"It's alright," she replied tiredly "It's alright. It just really hurt for a brief moment. Kind of killed the moment, too."  
He nervously laughed at that, "That it did." 

"Jon, it's alright." She repeated, "I'm fine, just – I should be alright tomorrow. You could…come out to see me?" she raised an eyebrow at the end of the sentence, hoping that take the hint.

His pained expression indicated that even if he didn't quite get the hint, that he was sorry enough anyway. "I don't think I'll be able to come out into the city at all tomorrow," Jon said, "The Guards are getting things organized for the Ball the following night. It'll raise too many questions if I slip out."

She couldn't quite mask her disappointment, but she nodded in acceptance. "So I guess that I'll see you sometimes during the Ball?"

"I'll meet you at the side entrance to the Palace," he explained to her, "It's all arranged with the carriage already. I'll meet you there and explain how to reach Roger's chambers. Between now and then, I'll try to work out a way that I can send a message to you if I find that Roger is leaving the Ball early. I'll talk to you about it on the night, alright?"

"Alright, so I'll see you then."

He nodded, before he smiled at her, "I love you, Alanna."

"And I love you." She responded seriously, and with a final long glance, she made her way back into the Dove. She would have skipped, but she worried that it might cause too much pain. The common room wasn't too crowded by this point, and she was able to easily make her way up to her room, flopping down onto her bed as she did so and falling into a content sleep. It was strange, but as good as her last two days had been, it almost didn't feel like her life anymore… 


	14. Preparations

A/N – Ugh. I'm not even going to try and explain what caused the huge delay, so…please don't be _too_ upset. Just note that 'life stuff' is a pretty broad category and, contrary to some opinions, writing fanfiction doesn't rank all _that_ highly when it clashes with aforementioned 'life stuff' ^_^

Still. A long chapter is the reward for waiting. **Even if it's not the last chapter**, contrary to what I said in the previous chapters authors note. Sorry if anyone came expecting to see the end of this, but…one more chapter will be it! I've mostly finished that one too, and it won't be _anywhere_ near as long as this one, so it should be out shortly! 

This isn't my best chapter, I don't think, but it's one which needed to be done – to sort out some threads before I launch into the ending and resolution of the story next chapter. Not a _complete_ resolution, mind you, because I've decided that I'll try and write the sequel. Which means that you'll be seeing a lot more of the Alanna, Jon and George from this world, as well as more on Ralon and Liam, as well as a look at what the situation with Carthak as shown in the Daine books would be like….well….without Daine to remove Orzone J But, uh, that's just a very preliminary idea of what the next story will be like. Not terribly spoilery, as I might change my mind…! ^_^

Anyway – here we go! One more after this!

***

For the first time in many nights, Alanna dreamt. Her tired eyes (which was, she noted, somewhat surprising given how energized she had felt while outside with Jon) closed on her plain room in the Dove, and she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.__

"-still don't see what this has to do with me."

_"Everything, Trebond. It has everything to do with you, don't you see that?"_

_"No!" a sigh was heard. Heard because she couldn't see anything – pitch darkness surrounded her, disembodied voices flowed permeating through its' depths. "No, that's not the truth. I understand why I'd be useful, but I don't see why it has to just be me."_

_"'Pick your battles'"_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"I pick the battles in which I'd have a chance. If Roger wanted to face me in combat? Then I'd be all for it – I'd be stopping you from going. But…against his magic? No, I wouldn't last for half a moment against him. All my skill, all my training would be for nothing. On the other hand, there's you – you who could well stand against Roger, you who's the youngest Master the world has ever seen. You, Thom, would stand a chance against him. I, on the other hand, would not."_

_She heard the sigh again, almost an exact duplicate of the previous one. "Alright, I understand. I'll come with you tomorrow, alright? If you can sneak me around easily enough – I don't want to use my Gift when I get close to the Palace if I don't have to."_

"Because of Roger."  
"Yes. I don't want him to suspect that I'm near him."

_"Does he know you're here? In the city, I mean."_

_"I don't doubt it. I've tried to be careful, but if he's half of what I've heard about him, then he's powerful enough to detect any Gifted person in Corus – let alone such a powerful one as I."_

_A pause followed, and she could tell that the two men were thinking – well, Thom and another man. She wondered why exactly she was being shown this, why she was being told about Thom's 'decision' to face against Roger. Why was it important, or was that just the point – perhaps it wasn't important at all, and the same degeneration that had plagued some of her more recent dreams was becoming slightly more sly, showing her false information or irrelevant things. She mentally frowned – where had that thought come from? The truth of the matter is that when it came to the dreams, she just didn't know anything at all about them, so it was relatively pointless to question them. Wasn't it?_

_Eventually the other man – the not-Thom, a voice which sounded somewhat familiar but which she couldn't recognise, spoke up again. "Good, so you'll come with me? I think you should take a look at the Queen, first. From what the Prince has told me she's very ill, and I have a feeling that if she dies, Roger could consolidate some of his power. And if the worst happens  - and Roger manages to remove the king too, then we have a real problem on our hands."_

"You mean you have real problems on your hands."

_"Thom, you're from Tortal too, don't you feel obliged to remove this…this _cancer_ from its' heights? Roger has to be removed, and I think that even you recognise that."_

_She felt, rather than saw, Thom shrug, which was a decidedly weird feeling. "Maybe I do, but isn't that the benefit of being nomadic? That I can move _away_ from trouble?"_

_"Some might call that cowardly, Thom." The not-Thom replied, "And besides. It's not just you on the line here – think about how many lives Roger has ruined."_

_"I don't know anyone who's been affected by him." Thom bit back, the words thin and harsh. "In fact, if you hadn't told me about his activities, I may well have left here with a positive impression of the man."_

_"Think on the lives that he _can and will_ ruin in the future, then! Think of…think of your family! You're noble born, aren't you?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Roger hasn't hesitated to steal lands from nobles in the past."_

_"So? I don't care about land or anything like that. And titles mean nothing to me."_

_The not-Thom sighed, "What of your family? Your father?"_

_"My father is dead." Thom replied, and Alanna – or at least, whatever she 'was' here, gasped. Their father was dead? When did this happen? As if hearing her thoughts (which would have been odd, since this event was supposed to take place in the past), Thom continued, "He died a year ago."_

_"Then what of your other family? Do you have any siblings? A mother?"_

_"My mother is dead."_

_"Siblings?"_

_She could tell that Thom was hesitant to reveal her existence, though she couldn't really think why. What was the harm in simply saying 'a sister' or something similar? A long pause followed the not-Thom's question, however, and she could tell that Thom was all but grinding his teeth in annoyance. "One." He eventually replied, his words sounding deliberate and forced, "A sister."_

_"What happens when Roger takes control over Tortall and orders that all noble born women must live away from home? Orders that they must marry by their twentieth birth day? What happens when Roger order's this sister of yours to do something against her will."_

_Thom snickered – she could guess what he was thinking. 'The day someone manages to make my sister do something against her will is the day that night becomes day'. Still, he seemed to take the not-Thom's (and who _was_ this man? Who had convinced Thom to stand against Roger? Who, she realised suddenly, had convinced Thom to go to his death?) words seriously enough, as he responded to the question. "I see your point," he replied, his tone more moderate than it had been, "But we do this on my terms, alright?"_

_"By that…?"_

_"I say when we arrive and leave. I say who and when we talk to people-"_

_"But you don't know anyone at the palace! I've been there for a month already, been this far west for a month!"_

_"-With input from yourself. But most importantly, I say how and when we stand up to Roger, alright?"_

_The not-Thom seemed to agree, "I understand, Thom. I accept what you're saying. We've got to be careful in this, I know that's all you're thinking of."_

_"Oh more than that," Thom responded, "Being careful is one hand, but you can still perish while being careful. I don't just want to be careful, I want to live."_

_Alanna's head swam, and the darkness…changed. The voices disappeared, and she felt that she was in a different place. A…grey…place, very particularly _not_ the inky black darkness that she'd been in before. She was alone for the moment, no voices, no apparitions, nothing but herself. She couldn't help thinking back to what she had just heard – Thom and the not-Thom's conversation. It was strange, but she couldn't understand why Thom, the same Thom who had given the impassioned claim about 'not dying', had later lost his life battling the man who he (at this point) apparently didn't even know. Why had he done it? Had the not-Thom revealed something else, or was the attitude something Thom had changed on his own?_

A bar of light suddenly appeared, illuminating the grey around her, revealing a cavernous room. Or at least, she thought it was a room – the walls were bedecked with various bizarre items, similar items covered numerous tables scattered around and along the wall in front of her sat a large object hidden by a white sheet. It wasn't so much a room, she decided, as it was a… 

She stopped, the thought sounding like a claxon in her mind. Not so much a room as it was a laboratory. And who did she know that possessed laboratories?

_Roger's chambers – Roger's laboratories._

_As if prompted by her mental answer, one of the large wooden doors behind her creaked open, and she spun around in shock. Thankfully, however, it wasn't the man himself – or even someone who looked remotely threatening at the time. Instead, it was her brother, cautiously looking back and forwards, often mumbling a few words under his breath as he, she guessed, searched for 'traps' with his Gift. It must have been safe, or at least Thom thought that it'd be safe, as he finally walked into the centre of the chamber with a wide grin attached to his lips._

_"Easy." She heard Thom whisper; he hadn't seemed to notice her standing there, not that she'd ever considered that he would be able to do so. It seemed that whatever else she was supposed to be doing in these dreams, the intent was to simply stand and observe. Obviously unconcerned by Alanna's musings, Thom had walked to one of the tables along the wall, examining the items which lay on it's surface, glancing at pieces of paper and the like. She tried to stand beside him, to look over his shoulder as well, but she seemed unable to move from her central position. The intent here, she thought with a groan, was to observe from this exact point._

_Which was irritating; it would have saved her a lot of trouble if she'd been able to find something…incriminating when she was, as she supposed she must be, incorporeal. Scrunching her face up in annoyance, Alanna decided that she should probably make the most of her position, taking a longer look at the various items that she _could_ see from her current point. Nothing sprang immediately out; nothing screamed 'This is evidence!' to her – although she soon realised that she was neither prepared nor really _at all able_ to recognise if something _was_ what could be considered evidence._

_The only thing which looked of some importance that she couldn't see was the large object along one wall, the one draped with a sheet. Luckily enough for her, it seemed that it had caught Thom's attention as well, and she watched with anticipation as Thom crept towards it carefully. He waved his hands over it for a brief moment, his eyes snapping open with such force that she _knew_ that something was up. She wasn't disappointed, as Thom stood gaping at the object, seemingly amazed by what he had 'felt'._

_Now she was _really_ curious._

_Slowly, carefully, Thom reached for the sheet and pulled it up slightly. Annoyingly, Alanna couldn't get any glimpse of what lay underneath, although she supposed that point was somewhat irrelevant considering Thom's reaction. Seeing whatever lay underneath the sheet, Thom's eyes glazed over and he stumbled backwards, the sheet draping once more over the object. Righting his footing, Thom stared in shock once more at the obscured item, before slowly shaking his head._

_Alanna wasn't sure, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Thom mumbled the words "Is he insane?" under his breath, before turning his back and swiftly walking out of the doorway. She didn't understand – what was this dream supposed to be showing her? Or was it, potentially like the previous one, a complete mislead, something sent to her (or whatever; she again supposed it was somewhat presumptuous to wonder about the meaning of a dream, about which she still didn't know why she was experiencing) to throw her off Roger's trail?_

_Which, she realised as she bit her lip in worry, he would be very, very capable of. But she dismissed the thought easily; Roger had met her for little more than a minute, had never gotten her name, and (she hoped) would never suspect that she was Thom's sister. If Roger _was _sending the dreams to her…well, it would be an amazing feat – especially when the dreams felt so much alike the one's she had been experiencing since before she left the Shang Village. Plus the focus on Thom, the focus the dreams placed on him, was something which Roger would be unlikely to think of – or at least she hoped this was so._

_Sighing, she realised that thinking about who sent the dreams, or who 'encouraged' them, was relatively pointless. The dreams all differed; seemingly evolving or changing over time – from the wonderfully romantic (and sexual, the suggestive part of her mind whispered) dreams that she had experienced at the beginning (which, as well as having an amazing subject matter, also seemed slightly…unworldly. References to things she knew had never happened, differences in the individuals she met, that sort of thing), to the disturbing and dark dreams that followed – the ones which had forced her to Eleni, seeking solace through the herbs that, regrettably, she had only used once or twice. And finally to these 'in Thom's shoes' dreams, which she _knew_ were incredibly important._

_Even these, however, had their bizarre qualities – what of the dream in which she and Thom had started as one being, then begun to fall away from each other? What was the significance in that? _Was_ there any significance in that? She didn't know._

_What she did know, as she suddenly took a long look at her surroundings, was that a lot of time seemed to have passed. Things had suddenly appeared on the tables while other's had disappeared, things had been taken off the walls – the room itself was the same laboratory that she had been within earlier, but the subtle alterations alerted her to the seeming passage of time. As did the re-emergence of Thom, who once again entered the room cautiously through the large wooden door behind her. Surprisingly, she realised that she could move this time, quickly moving over to one of the tables and attempting to pick up some of the papers that were scattered across it. A quick glance over her shoulder saw Thom rifling through different items on one of the tables, his quiet mumbling sounding far louder in this environment. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned back to her own table – hoping that the evidence she sought could be found now. Unfortunately, it appeared that her easy solution was not to be, as her hand simply passed through the paper – her seeming inability to pick anything up was quite a hindrance to that plan. She cursed, and turned to watch what Thom was doing._

_She had expected him to be looking at the obscured object again – hoping to get a glimpse of it, but no, instead he appeared to be…hiding. He was standing behind a slight alcove at the rear of the room, pressing himself hard against the wall._

_With a smirk, Alanna realised that even the mightiest magicians still appreciated a good hiding place some of the time. Of course, if he had simply used magic, it was probable that Roger could both sense – and then remove – such an enchantment, so she supposed that Thom was thinking clearly. Not that she'd have ever told him that, of course._

_She spun around once more as the noise of someone entering the room came from behind her. Roger stepped into his chambers, and seemed to immediately know that something was wrong – frowning and…was he sniffing the air? She wasn't sure, but it appeared that he was; still, it must have worked, as he immediately looked at where Thom was hiding._

_"Come out of there, Trebond." Roger said softly, "I applaud your rather…simplistic style there, it had me fooled for a moment. Looking for something, are we?"_

_"The great Roger admitting someone bested him," Thom responded in the same soft tone, ignoring the last question while stepping out from the wall section. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you ever admitted defeat."_

_Roger's smile was all teeth. "Ah, but you see – no-one ever needs to hear that I just admitted that, do they?"_

_"Of course, you assume that I'll keep it to yourself."_

_"I assume you will," Roger replied, "Because I don't think you're going to be talking much anytime soon. In fact, I don't think you'll be talking at all."_

_"Well it's so nice that we can skip the formalities," She shook her head; her brother sounded just like he had the last time she had experienced a dream of this sorts, cocky and challenging. She didn't understand it, not really – perhaps it was a magician's thing? "Do you want to get to the spell casting now, or should we exchange stories first?"_

_Her brother's killer waved his hand, "Oh, I already know enough about you, Trebond. I don't have any burning desire to talk with you, but feel free to ask questions of me. I'm always open to help any one of my admirer's."_

_Thom snorted, "The one's you pay?" Roger rolled his eyes; even she thought that was a pretty pathetic line. Thom seemingly recognised it too as he quickly rushed on, "Alright then. A question-"_

_"About the brooch, right?" Roger glanced down at the jeweled brooch he wore on his collar – the one Alanna had seen previously attached to the same place, the one that had sucked away Thom's Gifted blast like steel to a lodestone and also, she noted with a grimace, the one which she had realised was probably the 'bait' for Thom to come up here. "I see its' done its' job well."_

_"Actually, no." Thom shot back. "I don't care about that – I've never cared about that. All I have to ask is what you think the Vent will accomplish? What use is it?"_

_Roger winked, and Alanna shivered at its' pure malice. "Well, that's for me to know and for you to never find out, dear Trebond. The Vent accomplishes one thing; power for me. Apart from that, well – who really cares?"_

_"It's unstable."_

_"So?"_

_"So it's dangerous." Thom clarified, his tone of voice suggesting that he realised Roger probably knew this already, but nothing was lost in mentioning it. "The lives of everyone in this palace – everyone in this part of the city is at risk from it."_

_"Let me answer your question with another question, Thom." Roger replied with his smirk still firmly attached, "Why should I care?"_

_"Because you're a person too, although I've never seen one quite as twisted and perverse as you. But you're still human, and humans feel for others."_

_"Weak humans." _

_"All humans. Even you feel for other people, you can just hide it better."_

_Roger laughed, throwing his head back as he seemed to be greatly amused by what Thom had just said. Eventually, he managed to compose himself, his words interspersed with slight chuckles here and there. "What rock did you crawl out from under, Trebond? Have you ever _seen_ the way people treat each other? No-one cares about anyone else but themselves in this world! That's just the way things are – if we left right now? If the laws were abolished? What do you think would happen?" Thom opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He frowned, and slowly closed his mouth again. Roger nodded, "I can tell you this, Trebond. Peace and Harmony are lies – people lie to themselves to get along with others. Getting at each other's throats is the way humans are, not 'concerned' with other people or their feelings! You have to fight for your survival – and I don't mean fighting the elements or nature, you have to fight your neighbour to get by!"_

_"So, what then. You're a superior human because you know of this?"_

_"No, I'm superior because I have skills that most other's do not. You too, Trebond. We're quite alike, you and I; superior beings."_

_It was Thom's turn to laugh, although his sounded a trifle unsteady, "Not hardly. I'm not a bastard, for one thing."_

_Roger shrugged, "That's just a label."_

_"Well then, since they're just labels, let me lay on a few more." Thom counted off on his fingers, "Madman. Psychopath. Murderer. Butcher. Egotistical. Overrated. Amateur."_

_Alanna watched as Roger's smirk slowly disappeared as Thom continued his listing, a furious scowl appearing on the last few items. "One might call you insolent, Trebond."_

_Thom shrugged, "Maybe so. But at least I'm not evil."_

_The smirk reappeared on Roger's face, "No. Perhaps not – of course, as I said earlier, you're not going to really be anything soon enough, except for perhaps a plaything of mine. I do enjoy siphoning away power from those who try to challenge me."_

_"Therein lies the psychopath side, I see."_

_"Funny, Trebond." Roger responded, sarcastically, before he waved a hand. "But enough of this."_

_"Yes. I've already heard enough of your posturing to last me a lifetime."_

_Roger waggled a finger back and forth, "If you're trying to rile me up so that I kill you faster, I should let you know now that it won't work."_

_Thom snorted, "I'm not quite that fatalistic, Conte."_

_His killer shrugged his broad shoulders, "Suit yourself." He replied softly, before sighing dramatically. "Such a shame that we couldn't work something out – I would have enjoyed having you on side. You've got potential, Trebond, I have to admit that at least. Of course, it doesn't seem like you're going to be able to grow into it, now. Like I said, such a shame." _

_"Spare me."  Thom spat, "Your kind doesn't share power."_

_"No," Roger said softly, "I don't suppose we do." And at that, he lifted his arm, bright orange fire trailing along it's length. The fire…jumped from the limb, stretching towards Thom's face. Seemingly unsurprised by the quick strike, Thom brought both his arms up, his own Gift easily catching the streak of orange fire, shattering the energy before it had a chance to get anywhere near him. In the short moments that followed, Thom waved his arms quickly and sent his Gift into the ground around him – Alanna at first couldn't understand why he did so; why hadn't he struck back at Roger while he could easily? But the reasoning soon became apparent, as Thom seemed to…fade away, a slight purple afterimage the only indication that he'd been standing around there at all. Roger seemed almost as surprised as she was, as his achingly familiar blue eyes glanced warily around the room. "What are you playing at, Trebond?"_

As if in response to the question, a blur to her right suddenly appeared, purple fire streaming from it towards Roger. Amazingly, her brother's adversary simply stood still, an unconcerned look upon his face. As the fire streamed towards him, it suddenly veered away, attracted to the brooch that lay on his collar. Alanna finally understood; the brooch protected Roger from harm – or at least, from magical harm. That was why Thom had instead chosen to hide himself, he knew that he couldn't directly affect Roger with any apparent ease. She bit her lip; she'd resigned herself by now to the fact that this was very possibly the 'battle' in which Thom lost his life, but she was still learning more details than she honestly would have liked to have known. Thom would have faced a powerful foe…one who would have been immune to his most prized skill. 

_The foe was canny, as well – realizing that Thom had planned for his inability to attack him, he spun around the room in an attempt to work out what he might try instead. Thom's cover appeared to be relatively foolproof – or at least she thought so, as Roger didn't seem able to sense him, instead resorting to lashing out with Orange fire in random directions in the small hope of catching Thom unprepared._

_She frowned – perhaps this wasn't the battle in which Thom fell. He seemed to be coping fairly well, perhaps he managed to stay out of Roger's reach this time. It was possible, she guessed – but why then would she be shown it?_

_Perhaps, her mind provided as her eyes settled on the corner of the white sheet draped over the mysterious object was rising by itself, it has something to do with that. Thom must be attempting to uncover this object without Roger realizing it, judging by how slowly the sheet was rising – but to what end? What could it accomplish? She just didn't know._

_ Unfortunately for Thom, and unfortunately for herself as well, Roger's vision was as sharp as her own. He too spotted the slowly rising corner, and a maniacal grin spread across his face. "Clever, Trebond." He whispered savagely, "I'll give you that, but not clever enough I'm afraid." Thom didn't respond, and she wondered whether he had heard Roger in the first place – the obscured object was a good distance further away from Roger than she herself was. Even if he hadn't heard, she was _sure_ that he would notice Roger stalking towards him, eyes wide and hands outstretched._

_Orange fire spewed forth, slamming into some form of purple barrier that Thom had erected. Frowning, Roger tried once more, with similar results. Alanna was confused – she knew that Thom couldn't succeed in what he was attempting, since she knew that Thom had fallen and that Roger was still as evil and as threatening as he had been at this time, or so she believed. But on the other hand, Roger seemed unable to find a dent in Thom's defences. Just what exactly had happened?_

_Unfortunately, she soon found out - as Roger continued in his attempts to blast a hole in the purple barrier, each attempt failing just as the last had. Thom hadn't slowed in his attempts to remove the sheet – although he was still pulling it up rather slowly, which she didn't understand. Nevertheless, it was slowly being revealed; Alanna could finally see what it was, and to some extent she wished she hadn't. A multihued pool, swirling and dark, lay fixed within a twisted metal frame – the swirling colours making her impossibly nauseous, and she had to fight to prevent herself from retching at the sight. Perhaps it was just as disorienting and despicable for Thom, possibly explaining the slowness in his actions._

_Still, she wasn't sure exactly what her brother was planning – so perhaps the speed was an essential part of it all. The sheet was almost half off by now, and she could tell that Roger was becoming anxious. Perhaps if…_

_But no; Roger was smiling again, he was planning something. She tried to call out to Thom, to tell him to watch out, but she knew it would have no affect – she was watching the past, not taking part. Roger slinked up to where she assumed (as had he, apparently) Thom was standing, and instead of letting loose a blast of energy, simply began swinging his fists. For a magician, she supposed, he was certainly adept enough at the physical arts – something which she assumed he had carried over from his knight training._

_She grimaced when she heard Roger make contact, and in a blaze of white light Thom's invisibility removed itself, and her brother's recognizable form slumped to the ground. Blood dripping from his lip, he quickly tried to turn and look up at Roger…who hadn't wasted his time either, sending line after line of orange magic into Thom's body. Her brother convulsed on the ground, the pain tearing cries from his throat as Roger simply stood over him and grinned._

_"Like I said," Roger whispered as he looked up at the ceiling, "You're clever, and you've got potential. But you're not a match for me."_

_Thom spat blood onto the ground, "Anyone who stands' up to your tyranny is a match for you, pig."_

_Roger chuckled wildly, "I suppose it's a good thing for me then that not many strong people do, then. They all want power too – power that I can give them. For the right price, of course." He looked down at Thom, lashing out with his booted foot and catching her brother in the stomach. She yelled, in pain or shock she didn't know, but the cries were futile. "Now, what to do with you."_

_"Why don't you just let me go?" Thom spluttered, as he tried to force himself into a sitting position._

_His opponent seemed to think on it for a moment, tapping his lip with a well-manicured finger. "Hmm, possibly. Possibly. But no, I don't think so – why waste such valuable potential on simply allowing you to develop at your own pace? No, I have a much better idea for you…" Roger lashed out with a foot again, catching her brother while he was attempting to rise and forcing him to the ground again with a grunt. "Yes, I have the perfect solution."_

_She didn't want to look, didn't want to see her brother's death – but when Roger brought his hand down onto Thom's head she couldn't look away or close her eyes. Roger closed his eyes, whispering softly to himself as he did so, when a bright orange glow began to seep into her brother. He began to scream, and she felt a hole being torn in her heart as his pained cry echoed through the night. The orange glow brightened, blinding her, and a rushing sound wiped out the remnants of Thom's cry from her hearing. Suddenly, the rushing stopped entirely, and in that short instant, she heard Roger's soft voice floating within her mind._

_"There. The boy is gone."_

_When the brightness faded, she was in darkness again._

***

She awoke with a gasp, unsurprising considering the scene she had just witnessed, and almost fell out of her covers. Untangling herself from their confines, she wiped her cheeks of the few tears which had appeared as she remembered what had transpired.

Why is it that these things happen now? Why today – on the one day of late in which I have been truly happy, why show me this?

She didn't know, but it irritated her a great deal.  _Damn cryptic dreams._

And cryptic they were – though more in their origins than their intent. She had a fairly good idea of _why_ she was being shown what she was; to focus her against Roger, to ensure that she didn't 'make the same mistakes' as her brother, so to speak. A rather harsh way of looking at things, she recognised this, but it was the most probable situation that she had considered. But the question was, to her at least, _how_ were these dreams coming to her? She couldn't even begin to understand that part of the question.

_So why bother?_ Her mind asked, and she found herself agreeing – well, for the time being, anyway. A glance out of her window showed that first light was close, the sky near the horizon (not that she could see such a thing from her window; Corus was far too populated and developed a city for her to be able to do _that_) was a dark red, signifying the imminent arrival of sunrise. _Yes, far too early for any dissection of it all. _

But not, she realised with a moan, too early for training. She'd been better at training as of late, the cooped up periods in the small hovel having forced her back into a semblance of the rigid order that had been imposed on her while with the Shang, and such structure was something which she wished to maintain. At least for the moment, anyway.

Plus, she realised with a scowl, her ears were still throbbing in pain – it was somewhat difficult to think on such important issues when your mind was so preoccupied. She had hoped that the wounds caused by yesterdays' piercing would have healed by this morning, Eleni had even assured her that they would, but it seemed that Alanna must be a 'special case'.

"What fun." She mumbled to herself. Groaning both at the unfair state of the universe (with relation to her ears) and at the twisted questions posed by the dreams, she pushed her way up and out of bed, angry at the world in the way that you can only be when rising before dawn – and set off downstairs to find her small patch in the alleyway once more. To find peace within her own mind and attempt to banish some of the more inane questions that had arisen thanks to the dreams.

All the while, however, one question remained unanswered in the back of her mind, needling forward now and then only for her to dismiss it once more. It was, after all, rather a distracting topic, one which she would have liked to spend a good hour or two thinking over – an hour or two which she simply did not have. _What had happened to her brother? What had happened to Thom?_

Was he really dead? 

***

Alanna eventually managed to find this hour or two, although not before a tiring day had almost ended. Once her training had been completed for the day, she had returned back into the Dove and, after taking a quick bath and dressing, had emerged downstairs. Immediately, instead of being able to enjoy a quiet breakfast, she had been all but accosted by Nelly – demanding that she help her serve breakfast since 'one of the girls ain't coming in today', or some equally vapid excuse. Too bewildered to argue, Alanna nodded her head woodenly and was immediately set to delivering steaming plates of oats and sausages to patrons. Her quiet breakfast was soon forgotten, the only food she was able to eat was stolen from the kitchen – a skill that Riven (who had also been roped into serving duties) had quickly pressured her to acquire.

Thankfully, Nelly never once spotted her clumsy attempts, or if she did they were ignored. Alanna managed to feed herself, although not with a great deal of nourishing food. Finally, after a good hour and a half had passed, Alanna was waved away by Nelly to 'see to her own business', which Riven translated basically as meaning 'get out of my kitchen'. Taking his advice, Alanna escaped back up to her rooms in an attempt to find solitude there, to think over the dreams and her situation some more, or to just hope the burning in her ears died down. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was destined not to get such solitude – or at least, not get it _here_, as a rowdy group decided to enter the Dove. Their voices floated up to her level, the wooden door offering no protection from their aggravating noise, and Alanna began to get frustrated.

Finally, she decided that the best thing to do was just to leave, and so she did. She hadn't planned on going any one place in particular, but after seeing how high the sun in the sky was once she emerged from the Dove, she realised that she'd do best in just heading straight to Eleni's. After all, she needed to head there at some point in the early afternoon anyway; why not just get there a little earlier and hope that Eleni either had no friends or other loud things around, or she had a willing ear for Alanna's questions. Questions that she was fairly sure Eleni couldn't answer, but at the moment she didn't worry about things like that – not many people wouldn't have the answer, so Eleni was in good company there. And at least she enjoyed Eleni's company, more than she could say about, again, a great many people. She gave a self-deprecating smile as she realised just how thorny her thoughts were – which, she realised, wasn't strange considering what she was going to be getting up to tonight, _and_ what had gone on the previous night. She still hadn't really mulled over the ramifications of last night's meeting with Jon yet, what with the dreams, Nelly and training for tonight taking up much of her time and thoughts during the day.

Luckily, once she arrived at Eleni's place, it soon became apparent that this would be the perfect place to sort through her feelings about what had happened. After all, Eleni didn't appear to be able to think on much else. Something which was made apparent from almost the very first words spoken to her, as they sat around Eleni's kitchen table sipping on the warm tea the older woman had brewed prior to Alanna's arrival.

"What did you and Johnny get up to last night, dear?" the woman asked, bluntly. Alanna gaped – people shouldn't ask questions like this! This was too confronting, too revealing! "Close your mouth, now. Good girl." She shot Alanna a quick grin, "Now then, I know that something must have happened, because you look as haggard as if you'd spent all night awake."

"Uh…" Alanna gaped once more, snapping her mouth closed as Eleni shot her a glare. How was she supposed to answer _this_? It wasn't as if she were embarrassed by what had happened, embarrassed by talking about it, but this was George's _mother_! 

_So? _Her mind queried, _What does that have to do with anything? She's proven nothing but a friend to you, and George did give me his blessing._ She frowned slightly, _Didn't he? Or was it just his way of showing her that he can give her space?_ She hadn't thought about George's words all that much, to be honest.

"Do you want to look like an old hen?" Eleni's voice cut through her mental chatter, bringing her back to reality. 

Alanna's frown deepened. "No." she replied simply, "But what does-?"

"Then stop frowning, dear." Came the reply. "Frowning will make you wrinkle faster."

"Oh." Alanna blinked, before relaxing her face. "Sorry." She almost frowned again; _old hen?_

Silence reigned for a few moments more, Eleni pointedly looking at Alanna over the rim of her cup, eyes appealing for an answer. Alanna, in return, pointedly avoided the other woman's gaze. "And?" Eleni eventually asked.

"And what?"

"Don't be coy with me, girl." Eleni shot back, "Tell me."

"What's to tell?"

The other woman sighed deeply, before dropping her eyes to her cup and taking a sip. "You want to be like that? Fine – but you can find someone else to help you tomorrow night, dearie."

Alanna choked on her own sip; "What?"

"You heard me."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Are you…_bribing_ me into telling you what happened last night? What _might_ have happened?" She hastily amended, cursing herself for giving away that much, hoping that Eleni hadn't caught the slip.

Unfortunately, such a case was not to be, something noticed as the older woman's lips curled into a smile. "I think you'll find it's called blackmail, dear. Bribery is when I offer you something to tell me. Blackmail is when I already have something of yours, and offer to return it in exchange for something else. In this case, my services can be withdrawn if you don't tell me, Alanna."

"That's so…so…"

"Clever?" Eleni's smile widened, and Alanna's own mouth began to twitch. She had to give it to the older woman, she was quick.

"I was going to say callous." She replied. "After all, isn't my business just that?"

"Not when you get to my age, dear. My business _is_ other peoples' business."

Alanna couldn't help it, a grin spreading wide across her face. "Well," she began, "It's nice to see that you're up front about your gossiping."

"No sense in hiding the obvious," Eleni replied, a matching grin taking hold with her as well. "Don't you think?"

_Of course._ "I guess." Alanna replied, petulantly.

Eleni laughed aloud at that, "Don't sound so distraught, dear! As you know, I like to gossip, and after seeing what the two of you were like around each other last night before you left…well. I had a feeling something went on, and I want to know about it." 

"Sorry," Alanna replied, blushing. "I just find it hard to talk about my feelings with others." The smile slid off her face; it was true, after all. 

"That's alright. I know you, Alanna, and I knew that you would. That's why I had to force you, isn't it?" 

Her smile returned slightly, "Thanks, I suppose. And yes, you were right – something did happen last night. Johnny came to talk to me, to tell me something important-" Alanna left out exactly _what_ Jon had told her about the Royal Patronage. It wasn't that she didn't trust Eleni when it came to the plan she and Jon had hammered out, it was just…well, two things, really. One, she didn't want to lumber the older woman with the problems she faced, the problems with her past and how Roger was involved in it all – it was easier just to let Eleni think she was merely going to a ball. After all, she didn't know who Johnny really was, did she? Telling her would just lead to far too many questions, some of which would invariably get George in trouble. George, in effect, was also the focus of the second point. If she told Eleni what was being planned, she had a sneaking suspicion that such information would _somehow_ make its way to the Rogue himself and, to be quite honest, she would rather George didn't know that she was risking herself in such a fashion.

And she was, there was no kidding about the issue there. She was putting herself directly in danger of following her brother's footsteps. Quite literally, if the dreams she had had the night before held any relevance to the actual events. It's just that…She frowned, why was she concerned that George might stop her from placing herself in danger while she didn't mind Jon knowing the same details. Was it just that she couldn't _help_ but have Jon know, or was it something else entirely? 

"Don't think so hard. You're frowning again, and you know what that causes."

Alanna was shaken from her stupour. "Huh? - Oh, right." She grinned, "Old hen."

"Indeed." Eleni nodded, "So you should really stop thinking so hard. Tell me."

_Stop thinking so hard? I suppose the adage of 'Beauty is pain' can also be known as 'Beauty is stupid'_ Alanna giggled to herself at that. Looking pretty was one thing, but she'd rather think things through (even if, as she knew, she often thought through things _far_ too intensely) and ensure that she was doing the right things than merely looking pretty. Besides, she didn't think she looked all that good to begin with, so it's not that much of a fall – so to speak. "Alright, alright. As I was saying, Johnny came over to tell me something-" again she left out just what that was, "-and things just seemed to happen, really."

Eleni seemed a little put off by her apparent prudishness; "What sort of things, dear?"

_Do I really feel the need to tell her – to tell this woman about my feelings?_ She supposed she did, at that. For herself as much as Eleni, however – she could justify it that way, too. Still, coming to this realization didn't make it any easier for her to articulate her feelings. "Just…" she shrugged, "Talking about how he felt, about how we feel about each other. Those sort of things."

"So did anything….happen? Besides this talk, I mean."

"Well, yes." Alanna replied, softly, ears and face burning at the memory. "Other things happened, yes. One might even go as far as to say that there were lip related things occuring."

Eleni smiled, "I always imagined that Johnny would be a good kisser." She sighed, before laughing at Alannas' opened mouth look of horror. "Oh don't be so precious, dearie! I may be old, but I still know a handsome lad when I see one."

"Uh." Alanna didn't seem to be able to offer any other form of response. 

"Tell me," the other woman continued, leaning across the table to take Alanna's hands in her own in a conspiratorial gesture, "What's it like, kissing a King?"

Alanna froze… "How-" …and swallowed. She had to be calm – having her voice croaking wouldn't be the smartest thing she could do right now. "How do you think I'd know the answer to that, Eleni?" she continued, far more composed. 

The other woman simply groaned, before her smile widened. "I don't know whether or not I should be offended, that you'd think I was that stupid. You and George both, dragging that boy round here all the time, trying to pass him off as merely Johnny the rich merchants; son." She leant further across the table, "Tell me, Alanna. Didn't you at least question the story George had dreamt up? A rich-merchants son whose name is similar to the young king, is of a similar age, and who _looks_ the same?"

She gaped, "Uh, no. I mean, I don't think George had reason to question it." She didn't bother trying to refute the claim; now that she thought about it, the 'Johnny' cover story did seem particularly thin. _Although,_ she realised, _it has held stock with many other people. Riven, Nelly, Olly – none of them suspect, do they?_ She'd have to look into that one. The only reason Jon wandered around the city as freely as he did was due to his – supposed - anonymity. If this was built merely on an unsteady premise…

"Don't worry about it," Eleni broke in, "I don't think anyone else would know about it. I know Johnny fairly well, I'm in close contact with him many times – I doubt that anyone else would be able to put the pieces together without knowing him as well as I do." She grinned, "The way _you_ do, for instance."

Alanna blushed once more, although the embarrassment she felt thanks to Eleni's words was tempered somewhat with the realization that the other woman's reasoning was probably rather accurate. "I don't know him _that_ well."

"Maybe so," Eleni shrugged. "After all, you've not known him for all that long. However, you know him slightly more _intimately_ than I do – more than most woman do and more than a fair few of those dare dream."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means just what it says – that you know our Fair King in a way that many women would envy. For a start, you've kissed the man." Eleni stopped, suddenly. "Haven't you?"

"Yes." Alanna replied quietly. "I have." _More than once, at that._

A sigh of relief could be heard, electing a small chuckle from Alanna. "That's good. I had a moment of panic, then." Eleni said, holding her chest. "I knew what you said earlier was rather plain, but sometimes-"

"-You just can't stop yourself fearing the worst." Alanna finished, "I know the feeling. In fact," she continued, gulping. "it's what really kept me an Jon apart to begin with."

Eleni frowned. "So, last night wasn't your first…?"

"No." Alanna replied, "And don't frown."

"Cheeky."

"I try." She grinned, "And no, last night wasn't the first night something between me and Jon had occurred. That date happened a while ago now, about two weeks ago, give or take a few days. We then discussed how we felt about each other – rather generally, it seemed. That we felt _something_ for each other, though we weren't entirely sure what." Biting her lip, Alanna felt a slight stab of pain at how this 'first attempt' had gone, "But even though we shared quite an amazing day together after that, things fell apart – hard – once he told me just who he was."

"Why was that?" Eleni proffered, her warm, motherly tone easing Alanna's pain.

Still, it was nonetheless somewhat distressing, and Alanna sighed in memory. "I don't rightly know, to be honest. I've gone over it many times in my head, wondering that very question, and the closest I can get to the truth is that…that we both had so many secrets to reveal to each other, and after I'd spent a while recounting my own secrets – secrets which I've never told anyone else, mind you - " She qualified, "he then reveals to me that not only is he someone with whom our lives would _necessarily _be public in nature, but who is already engaged to another woman that you've never met before."

"Ah. So this occurred before he broke it off with that Eldorne hussy." Eleni smiled, "I've heard rumours that it was because of another woman that the King broke off the engagement, even had my suspicions, but it's glad to have it confirmed – that it's both true and that it _was_ you who caused it."

Alanna growled, a low sound originating from somewhere in her throat. "I'd rather not think on it like that." She announced.

"But it's true, no?" 

"Not really. It was Jon's decision."

"Ah," Eleni nodded. "That's true, yes – but if not for you, do you think he would have done it?"

Another growl threatened. "Maybe." She didn't like where this was going; _was Eleni accusing her of being a harlot?_

Perhaps not; the older woman laughing softly in response. "I'm not saying that what you did, what Jon did _because_ _of you_ was a bad thing. On the contrary," she continued, giving Alanna a look of warmth, "I think the two of you make a wonderful couple, or you would once you become such. And that's taking into account my disappointment that it didn't work out between you and my George. I still think the two of _you_ would make a lovely couple as well, but I understand that sometimes things don't happen that way." Her smile widened, "So I think what occurred is for the best. But – and that's an important but there, dearie, take note – you can't run away from what impact you've had. You are an important person, Alanna, in many peoples lives."

"For the better or worse?" Alanna queried.

"You're thinking of George, aren't you?" Alanna nodded softly, "Hum, I thought so. Look, George fell in love with you, and couldn't think of anything else _but_ you. Then again, that's always the way George has been – he walks with his heart kept so confined and locked within him that when he lets it loose the entire thing escapes."

"That's a pleasant image." She interjected, a slight smile creeping over her lips.

"When he lets' his passion free," Eleni clarified, a rather melancholic smile reflecting Alanna's own, though for what reason the younger woman was not certain, "It tends to consume him. Whatever it is that he becomes passionate about attracts his entire being. He's always been like that, ever since he was a little boy and was incredibly passionate about saving his father."

_There's the reason._ "His father? I don't think I've ever heard about him."

Eleni waved her hand, "I think George would rather it that way, to be honest. It's not something he's fond of remembering."

_Touchy subject, obviously._ "Alright. Well, thanks for your kind words regarding myself and Jon. Johnny, I mean."

"You can call him Jon," Eleni replied, smile perking up once more. "And I meant what I said. George may well be where my heart lies, but I can tell as well as anyone else with eyes that you and Jon are in love with each other. And from what I gather happened last night…"

"Nothing _really_ happened last night," Alanna responded, after seeing Eleni's eyebrows shift noticeably upwards, hinting at something different. "Nothing like _that_, anyway."

"Would it have been a shame if such a thing happened? Would it be a shame to lie with the King? With Jon?"

"No!" Alanna replied quickly, and far too loudly. Feeling colour suffusing her cheeks, she attempted to clarify her point. "No, it wouldn't be a shame if something like that happened – but not now, not so soon."

"But from what you've said, it's not really all that soon at all."

_Did this woman have no shame at all?_ "But it is. Until last night, we'd come to an…an agreement to, uh, ignore what had happened before-" She cut off, biting her lip.

"Before what, dear?"

"Before the night where we revealed just _who_ we were to each other." _Before _that_ night._

"Ah." Eleni seemed to understand now, though whether she understood in relation to what Alanna had told her, or in relation to what George may have told her, she didn't know.

"Did George…? That is, was there anything unusual about George a week or so ago?" Alanna queried, attempting to ferret out just _how much_ this older woman knew about her romantic life. It was strangely…comforting…to know that someone (who wasn't even her!) was keeping as much attention upon such happenings as she herself was. Very strange.

Eleni grinned, "No, dear. George didn't say anything to me about anything happening between either the two of you or you and Jon, but I'm his mother."

_She really should know what that means – or at least, what Eleni wants' it to mean._ "So…"

"So I can tell when something is upsetting my child, Alanna. And, based off what little he'd told me about his feelings for you previously, I could gather what had happened."

"So…"

The other woman all but rolled her eyes. "Would you like me to spell it out for you, child?"

"Uh."

"I know that you and George lay together. I know that you did and do not feel the same way for him that he feels for you. I know that there was a lot of tension between the three of you as of late, particularly between you and my son. I know, now, that the bonds between the three of you are re-affirmed, that they are just as strong as they ever were, though still changed. George understands that you don't feel for him in the same way, though he remains to feel the same way about you. He also understands that you love Jon, and it is this fact – together with his desire to see the best for you, Alanna – that has re-affirmed his friendship with the King. He wishes to ensure that Jon's life is as smooth as possible, so that the King can focus upon _you_, dear."

"Wow." Alanna stated, simply, after a long period of silence. "You know all this for certain?"

"No, Alanna," came the reply, "I do not. However, just as my son has a gift for understanding people that helps him with his thieving, so do I have a gift for understanding people when it comes to my gossip. I don't _know_ that everything I just told you is true, but I _feel_ that it is. Just as I don't _know_ that you are still confused with your own personal dealings, but that things are becoming clearer to you everyday – that you feel you belong with Jon, even as it hurts you to see what effect this has on George. I don't _know_ these things, but I _feel_ that they're true."

"Wow."

"Just as I felt that something happened between you last night." Eleni looked pointedly into her eyes, "Just as I feel that something is going to happen tomorrow night."

Ah. _Of course, the same dilemma arises now – tell her and endanger her and George, or don't tell her and risk a friendship?_ It seemed an obvious decision, when Alanna thought about it. "I can't tell you." She whispered, "I just – if I tell you that what you…feel is correct, expand on it, then you may well be put in danger. I don't want that, not for you."

"Don't try and protect me, dear. George does enough of that as it is."

"I'm sorry, Eleni. But I won't put you in danger." Alanna pulled her hands back, eyes downcast as she did so. "I just won't do it, no matter how much I may want to – because I do want to, Eleni. I do want to tell you and be a good friend, but I won't."

The other woman sighed deeply, "Fair enough, then. We all have secrets, don't we? I suppose that I can understand where you are coming from, although I have to tell you that I'd never try and act personally upon whatever it may be that you would be doing tomorrow."

_Personally – yes, that's what I'm worried about. _"I'm sorry."

"That's alright." Eleni's smile returned, "Now, thinking about tomorrow still – I think you should get here at about noon, so we can start getting you ready."

"_Noon_?!"

"Yes, dear. It takes a long time to make you up properly, and then we still need to worry about the hair, and the dress – oh, and we need to do some last minute run downs of Lady-like things."

Alanna narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean by that? I'm feminine enough, aren't I?"

"Feminine?" Eleni had the gall to actually snort, "Alanna, I think you're a wonderful person, but you're as un-lady like as a farmers' son."

"Don't you mean daughter?"

"No." 

"Oh. Well…"

"Exactly." She smiled at Alanna then, "But don't worry – we're not going to try and turn you into a lady overnight. Just enough skills and know-how to get you through a few hours, and a few highly-intrusive questions from noble ladies and noblemen."

"Why wi- Oh, right." Alanna hadn't thought of that – of course other's would be interested in her. She was, after all, attending as the King's 'New Partner'. _Not that you'll technically be attending at all,_ a more rational part of her mind noted. _You'll be off attempting to find some evidence that will incriminate Roger in the old Queen's death, not worrying your pretty little head over what the nobles think of you._

That was true, Alanna knew it. She didn't really need to worry about such 'lady' lessons, considering that the closest she'd get to nobility all night (besides Jon) would probably be the Guards at the gate. She was surprised to feel a pang of regret at that thought; _why am I disappointed by that? I don't _want_ to mingle with nobles…_

But that probably wasn't it, she realised. It was more probable that she regretted being able to meet with Jon's friends and acquaintances, to show the world that Jon was an amazing man. _Moreover_, she added mentally with a grin, _it would have been fun to see the nobles' reaction to seeing their King with a Female, Gifted, Noble born Shang Warrior._ Still, there wasn't much point complaining about such 'lady-training' if she wasn't going to be needing it anyway – and if she tried to wrangle out of it by claiming this very fact…well, there wasn't much point going down that route, either. "Alright," she finally responded. "I'll get here around noon, then. Anything else that I should do before I arrive tomorrow?"

Eleni seemed to think on that for a while, rubbing her hands together as she did so. "Not particularly, dear. No. Although you probably shouldn't tax yourself too much this evening, just to be on the safe side." She must have noticed Alanna's puzzled expression, "Neither bags nor bruising are awfully attractive, are they?"

"I suppose not."

"How are your ears doing?"

Alanna reached up and touched then, "They still hurt, a lot. But they're getting better." They were, at that. Never mind of course that 'getting better' still measured very high on the painful scale.   
"Good. With anyone else it would be a few more days before I'd risk putting in some of the more elaborate earrings, but for you…" Eleni smiled, "Well. I think we'll be alright for tomorrow. We'll get you some nice ones to match your dress."

"Matching?"

"Yes. You can match what you're wearing, Alanna. It's a new concept, I know."

She rolled her eyes at that one. "Very funny. But I didn't realise that earrings matched or didn't – I just thought that they…well, _were_."

"You've a lot to learn, Miss Shang." Eleni responded with a crooked grin, "A lot to learn."

***

It turned out that indeed Alanna did, as she spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night with Eleni, being taught the basics of lady-hood. True, the two of them realised that girls trained for years to become Ladies, and thus one or two evenings wouldn't _really_ be able to make a difference, but it all counted. And considering that besides the very minimal training she had undergone while still in Trebond Alanna had not gained any formal training in either etiquette, deportment _or_ fashion – let alone the numerous other elements a lady was expected to be versed in, any more 'count' would be immensely useful.

Not that Alanna planned on needing to utilise such skills, oh no.

Liar! 

She had stopped walking suddenly at that, about halfway between Eleni's home and the Dove. She _was_ lying to herself, wasn't she? Yes, yes – truth be told, she _did_ want to try some of the skills out that she had recently acquired, to act like a lady a little. Not a lot, definitely not act a _lot_ like a lady, she didn't think she'd ever really want to act a _lot_ like a lady – but she wanted to be the kind of woman that Jon would have been proud of. 

She frowned at that thought. That wasn't _entirely_ true, now was it? It wasn't that she wanted to change herself to be what he wanted, but there was nothing wrong with showing the man how much she desired his attention. And that's all this was, really, she decided. She wanted to show the King how she wanted to be with him by presenting…something to him which had taken her time and energy to create. That was all this was. It wasn't as if she was contradicting just _who_ she was with this little act – she still recognised that she never would be a lady, that she was a Shang Warrior, and that above all else she was an individual. But as part of that…she could give a little, couldn't she? Show Jon that she wasn't _just_ comprised of steely-eyed resolve, that she could be soft and ladylike when she wanted to be.

_But was that enough?_ _Was it enough to justify her attending the ball _just_ to show Jon how she cared? Was it worth, potentially, her risking herself by doing so, by exposing herself to Roger?_

She couldn't conceive of it as being so. _Going through with it could do far more harm than good. Even if nobody did catch you, or question you, or one of a hundred other potential problems, then Jon would be too upset and anxious about what you're doing to take good notice of just _why_ you're doing it_. _The exercise would be utterly pointless. _

And pointless exercises weren't something she was generally willing to aim for. So, in the end, she decided that there was no possible chance that she would actually attend the ball itself, regardless of how badly or well her other 'mission' had progressed. It was a shame, but it _was_ the right thing to do.

"Doing the right thing all the time sometimes gets irritating." She noted solemnly, before realizing how silly it was to talk to oneself. She shook her head at that thought, and continued walking. _But doing the right thing in this situation,_ she continued internally, _is really the only thing of importance. You're going to the Ball to find evidence on Roger, not to better the standing you have with Jon. Taking unnecessary risks are just that – unnecessary, and may well lead to severe consequences, ones far worse than not taking the opportunity to show Jon how you care._

It's irksome, but it's accurate.

***

"What are you talking about, Riven?" Alanna could barely believe what she was hearing, "Do you honestly expect us to believe that?"

"It's the truth, I swear!"

She rolled her eyes, catching sight of George grinning smugly off to one side of her. Throwing him a soft glare, she turned back to Riven, "So let me get this straight. You're trying to convince us that in one day-"

"Today."  
"Right," she sighed, "that _today_ you managed to steal enough gold to buy…what was it now?" Alanna tried to put on a show of thinking, dramatically scratching her chin and pursing her lips. 

George laughed lazily, "Three horses, apparently. Nice ones' that wouldn't roll over and die after a good run."

"Right. Three horses, horses which would cost something like...what, George? Fifty gold all up?" George nodded at that, "So fifty gold in one day, eh Riven? That's a pretty big haul."

"It's true! There must have been some kind of merchant convention or gathering going on," Riven adamantly insisted, as he had been doing for the past ten minutes, "There were hundreds of them all in the one region of the markets, and I just _happened_ to be the only one working the area!"

"Where's the money now, Riven?" George asked, fixing an intense gaze on the youngster. "Your pockets don't appear to be all _that_ bulging." 

Riven blinked, patting down his pockets instinctively – sure enough, nothing appeared to be in them, no jinking of coin was heard at any rate. Something Alanna wasn't all that surprised about. "Uh. I've spent it already."

"You spent fifty gold in a matter of scant hours?" George continued, incredulously, "On what, dear Riven? Because it certainly wasn't on new clothes, was it?"

That tore a guffaw from Alanna, and a glare from Riven (after, admittedly, a rather sheepish look at his tatty clothing). "What's wrong with me clothes?" he asked, indignant. "They're very serviceable!" 

"Aye," George continued, "But you couldn't say they're worth fifty gold."

"Or even five!"

"Don't you start in on this too, Alanna." Riven warned, "I'll have you know that with all the adjustments I've made on these here-"

"Like what? Patches? Darning up tears?" Alanna continued, before smiling as she thought of a point, "And why shouldn't I start on this? As a woman, don't you think that I'd know more about the worth of clothes than you?" 

It was Riven's turn to laugh heartily, and he almost fell off the chair doing so. Soon enough, George joined in as well, though his were softer and not quite as violent and injury-inducing as Riven's. "That's a nice one, Alanna!" Riven managed to croak out, "I think we probably _do_ know more about being a woman than you do!"

She glared for a moment, her blood boiling – before a smile broke out on her face. They were probably right about that, if she was being honest with herself. She _didn't_ know much about being female, and while Eleni had been teaching her steadily and quickly, they had a _lot_ more to go through. Just because she had breasts and a cycle didn't mean she knew more about womanhood than men did. _Although it certainly helps_, she thought with a chuckle. "Nevertheless," she continued, accepting Riven's point, "Your clothes are _still_ not worth fifty gold, nowhere near that. Five silvers, more like."

"Actually," Riven added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Not even that." 

"So, if not the clothes….?" 

"Yeah, Riven." Alanna added her voice to George's, "If you didn't spend this _fifty gold_ on clothing, and you don't appear to have any horses running around, what exactly _did_ you spend it on?"

Riven sank back into his own chair, mouth opening and closing a few times before he realised it – after which it snapped shut. "Well, it's an interesting story, actually." He finally choked out, face reddening slightly, "Because, uh, I know what you're thinking. That perhaps I'm making this up."

"Good guess." The Rogue huffed, "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"Can I finish?" George grinned at that comment, waving his 'consent' at Riven, "Thank you. As I was saying, I can understand why you'd think that I'm making it all up – but you've got to understand, uh, something. Something that's very important to the tale." Having said this, he paused dramatically.

The silence stretched, until it was readily apparent that Riven actually had _nothing_ to say, no explanation of his actions that would account for the seeming lack of evidence. "And that is?" Alanna prodded with a smirk, not allowing the youth any respite. "That you gave it all to a needy beggar? That you returned it to the merchant once you realised that your actions were illegal and swore of a life of thievery?"

"Actually, those aren't bad." Riven noted quietly, before his eyes bugged, an incredulous look spreading over his features. "Uhh, that is to say…" He obviously _hadn't_ meant to say anything then, "Of _course_ that's not what happened! I spent it all on things that, you know…are easily, uh-"

"Expendable?" George offered.

"Yes! That's it, expendable. It was already spent on things which I've already used. So there." And with that, he sank back down in his chair, arms crossed with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "Food, drink, helping out some friends – you know, these kinds of things. And _that's_ why you can't see the, uh, benefits of my masterful work."

Alanna shared a glance with George, before shaking her head softly. "Nice try, Riven. But you're really going to have to work on those skills – I don't think they've gotten any better since the moment I met you."

George nodded, "Listen to her lad," he added, ducking his head at Riven in punctuation, "A thief needs to be able to think on his feet more than anything else. Plus they need to know how to lie well-"

"-And lying well does not include making up stories that are quite obviously fake-"

"-As your one clearly was. Now look, stealing the amounts of gold that you claimed you did in one day isn't unheard of, you understand, but if you're going to claim that you _did_ so, well-"

"-You have to act like you did, right?" Alanna finished the thought, smiling as she realised just how similarly she and George were thinking on this issue. "I've never really thought about it before, but being a thief and being a Shang are quite similar. You need to think on your feet well, be trained to react almost without thinking most of the time, and you need to go unnoticed most of the time." Her grin widened, "Of course, there's a few, subtle differences-"

"Like the whole law thing, aye?"

She nodded at George's words. "Well, yes. Not that 'being Shang' is legal everywhere one goes. We're not legally permitted to be in Carthak, for instance."

"Why not?" Riven asked, eyes wide. He really loved all this Shang stuff, she knew – she could still remember a time when he would pester her to teach him something. "What's wrong with being a Shang? I mean, don't they sort out all sorts of things, keep the peace and all that stuff?"

"Yes, we do." She replied, frowning. "At least, that's what we're _supposed_ to do – some have been known to follow other agendas. But that's not how the Carthaki's see us. Of course, the fact that they don't really like _any_ northerner's kind of puts a kink in the relationship even before we get to the whole concept of assassinations."

It was George now he leant forward, an almost wondrous look on his face, "What do you mean by that? They're worried that Shang will start killing people?"

"Not so much 'people' as 'leaders'." Alanna replied, eliciting a nod from George. He understood, she could tell. She turned to Riven, who didn't appear to have made the connection as of yet. "The Carthaki's are just like us, in that one person rules them, right? The Emperor, he's called, although I'm not sure if there's ever been an Empress."

"I doubt it." 

She nodded at George's words, "Probably not. But anyway, the Emperor, more accurately the current Emperor Orzone, generally like to hoard their power. See, that's where the countries differ in how they work – here we've got lots of fiefs and so forth, not to mention lots of neighbours, who generally…uh…" She looked at George – it had been a long time since she'd had to study this. Shang weren't taught all _that_ much about the outside world, but anything relating to them in particular; where they could and couldn't go, for instance, was taught in meticulous detail. Still, she'd apparently forgotten some of this detail.

"Constrain the Kings' power." George continued, and Alanna nodded. "The Throne's got a lot of power, don't you worry about that, but it's not all powerful. The King – or the Queen," he quickly added with a shifty glance at Alanna that caused her to chuckle softly, "have to play off the various duchy's and Baron's. They need the support of these if they're to remain in power, and this – together with ensuring that neighbouring countries don't encroach into Tortall's borders, means that they can't do whatever they like."

_Yeah, that was pretty much how she remembered it._ It struck Alanna then just how clever George really was. She knew that he _was_ smart, of course – one couldn't really be King of the Rogue without being so, but…this was different. He reminded her of…she frowned, she couldn't quite tell. She knew he reminded her of someone, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Nevertheless, he was very intelligent, far more so than she had first had reason to believe. _He'd make a great politician,_ her mind noted, _maybe that's why he and Jon got on so well._

The thought stirred something else in her mind, an image from a dream, or so it felt. As it focused in her mind, she remembered, and a question that she had to ask George became apparent. 

"Alanna?" 

Rivens' voice broke into her consciousness, and she was dragged back to reality. "Yes? Sorry, I drifted off for a bit then."

"Obviously." George whispered under his breath, and she shot him a warm glare. "Anyway, lass – that's the way of things, right?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, that's the way I remember things being told to me." She dropped her head slightly, "So, that's the way things work here. But in Carthak there's no other powerful force nearby, only the 'northern nations' and a few scattered tribes that lie to the east and south. While inside the country, their religion commands them to worship the Emperor as a divine force – a God among men, I think. Something like that, anyway. Which means that-"

"-no-one opposes him, right?" Riven said, catching on. 

She nodded – Riven was smart too…in his own way. _If he wasn't such a bad liar, he'd make a good thief, _she thought with a grin. "Yeah, that's about it. So the only thing the Emperor is really worried about, then, is us. The 'northern nations', I mean. So they try and keep most northerner's out, or at least those who are a potential risk to the established system. The Emperor, in particular, is deadly afraid of some northern ruler getting an idea in their head to try and assassinate him – and since he thinks the Shang are some kind of mercenary force, or something strange like that – I don't really remember the details, he doesn't want us there. So, Shang are illegal in Carthak."

"Wow." Riven noted with a blink, "That's pretty amazing. So no Shang have ever been to Carthak, then?"

"Oh I didn't say that," she replied with a smirk, "Plenty have. We just disguise ourselves as something other than what we are and pray that we're not caught. If one is, then we hope they escape. Which unfortunately doesn't happen as often as one might like." Her smile twisted, "Sad and brutal, yes. But that's part of being Shang."

It was at that, something which she was learning all to quickly. Killing was never something she had really wanted to do, but more and more she was beginning to realise that it never was for any Shang – any Shang who was living the life _properly_, at any rate. 

"Again, I say wow." Riven continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "Well, that's a very…interesting point."

George nodded at that, "Aye. I didn't know that – though I suppose there's a lot about what being a Shang means and entails." She noted that George wasn't quite as cheery as he had been previously; perhaps her comment about sadness and brutality being a part of Shang got to him as well as it did to her. _He still cares for me_. Of course he did – one doesn't get over feelings of…love…quite as quickly as the words are said, do you? She was pretty sure that time was required to heal old wounds of the heart as much as wounds of the body, something she was sure to learn soon. _Things have happened so fast. I've not really had time to grieve George as much as I probably should – first this plan about Roger and then the thing with Jon. I need to make sure that he's alright before I begin to concentrate solely on Jon, don't I? George is still my friend, after all…_

Riven appeared to catch on to George's mood as well, and presumably her own too – realizing that she'd upset George, albeit in an unintended fashion, upset her as well. "Well, you guys can stay here brooding if you want, I'm off."

"To spend the rest of your pickings, I take it?" George noted, a small smile slipping back onto his face.

His reply was a roguish wink, and a line thrown over the younger thief's shoulder as he left the table. "Ah, but you forget George, I've already spent it all."

She chuckled at Riven's disappearing back as it slipped through the crowd, "He's going to cause you problems in the future, I can tell."

Her companion nodded softly, "Very probably. That's if he _does_ end up as a thief, however. A thief in my court, at that."

"Nelly?"

George nodded, "Aye. She doesn't want him to, but I can tell that he's going to win out on this one." His smile widened, and he looked up to meet her eyes, "Mind you, not because she'll give up trying to make him stop, but because he's got gold on the brain – if he ever sees something he wants, the first thing he thinks about is how to steal it. Even if he _does_ have the money to buy it, he always thinks of stealing first." He sighed wistfully, "Reminds me of me at his age, sometimes."

"Really?" she questioned, slightly disbelieving his words, "I would have thought that you were more…" she trailed off, thinking. "Stable."

He snorted, "I think not. I'm surprised you haven't heard all the stories of 'George the Tearaway' from my mother already, actually."

Alanna shook her head, "Oh, no. We tend to talk more ab-" she cut off, suddenly, but the thought continued in her mind. _More about Jon, more about how I feel about him and how he makes me feel._ She couldn't tell George, that, she knew – to have the knowledge that even his own _mother_ talked about Jon and her together probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. _Poor George_.

"More about what?"

"Sorry?" She blinked in confusion, "Oh, just more about, you know, lady stuff. How to be womanly, that kind of thing." It wasn't _really_ a lie; they did talk about that kind of thing a lot. Plus it was a whole lot less damaging than the other concept.

"I don't know why you need to talk about that kind of thing," George replied in a soft tone, "You're woman enough for any man. Any_one_, for that matter."

She dropped her head, _I wish George move on. I like him, love him even, but we're not to be. Who knows, if Jon wasn't in the picture…But he is._ She didn't want to think about that, it would depress her too much. "George…"

"I know, lass. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be." She reached across the table, taking one of his hands in hers. "I know how hard this must be for you George; I'm the one who should be sorry." He nodded at that – a good sign? Accepting that she was to blame for his situation just as much, if not more so, than he himself was? – and she decided to steer the conversation away to less personal topics. Remembering the thought that had risen earlier, she furrowed her brow. "George," she began, "Do you remember anything about the people Thom associated with when he was here? I mean, apart from yourself, of course."

George's brow deepened as well, and she could tell that wheels were turning in his sharp mind, "What do you mean, lass? Who he would talk to, and all that?"

_Was_ that what she meant? "Yes. I mean, I suppose so. I don't really know _what_ I want."

"Then how do you know to ask the question?"

_Damn_. "I just heard that Thom used to hang around with…uhh…elements which weren't what one would have expected." She just suppressed a self-satisfied grin as she said the words, astounded that she could actually come up with such a plausible sounding excuse. She hadn't told George about the dreams yet, hadn't told many people, and she did kind of wish to keep it that way. She wanted a few more answers on why they occurred before she let the whole world know about them. George wasn't 'the whole world', of course, but he was still a _part_ of it. 

So she justified her lies to him. She knew he despised liars, but there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn't hurting him any by lying, anyway. 

He seemed to accept her words – lies – at any rate, nodding softly to himself. "Well, there's not really anyone that I can think of. No one person, I mean. He didn't really come out into the city much anyway, so I didn't get to see him associatin' much anyway – and when he _did_ come out of the palace, he disguised himself a lot of the time."

"So you don't know?" Her heart fell; _who was that man who convinced Thom to go up against Roger?_

George smiled softly, "I never said that, did I? I don't have a name or anything, no, but I do know that apart from Jon and Roger, there was one other person whose name was mentioned along with Thom's, anyway."

She frowned at that, "What does- What do you mean by that?"

"Just that, and you'll have to remember that this isn't really an answer to your question – it's just an observation. I don't know how the two of them interacted at all, or even if they did. But the only name mentioned as much as Thom's while he was here was that friend of yours. The other Shang."

"Arune?" 

George nodded, "Aye, that was it. Yes."

"Why would Arune's name be mentioned at the same time as Thom's?"

"It's probably nothing," her friend shrugged as he talked, "As I said, I don't know if it's an answer to your question. Just an observation – Arune arrived around the same time as Thom did; the first time, anyway."

"The first time?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

She frowned, _there seemed an awful lot about Arune that she didn't know._ "Know what?"

"I take it that's a no. He arrived, as I said, about the same time as Thom did – so what now? Almost two years, I think. Might even be a little longer. Anyway, He stayed for about a year or so, teaching and advising, before leaving again. He only recently arrived back, a few weeks before your face was seen around here." George shrugged again, shifting back into his chair as he did so. "As I was saying, while he was here the first time, his name was mentioned as much as Thom's was. Not in the same context, mind you, not all the time. Dances, balls and gatherings were the only places, if you were to believe everything told to you by the gossips, that the two met up."

"Why didn't you tell me about this when you met Arune?" she asked, confused. If he had known all along that Arune may know about Thom….

George frowned at that, "Well, we _were_ a bit preoccupied at the time; remember? My face, his fists? Besides, I thought you already knew."

"Why would I already have known?"

"Well, you _are_ both Shang."

_True_. "Oh." Yes, she probably should have realised George would see it as that. "Well, I didn't know, but I understand why you didn't say anything about it to me." Arune was here, in Corus, at the same time that Thom was. The voice in the dream _had_ sounded slightly familiar; the question, then, was whether it _was_ Arune, and if it was, how were the two linked? _Why_ would the two be linked? The voice in the dream had sounded so…anti-Roger, had convinced Thom to go up against him. But it _couldn't_ be Arune – if it were him, why had he never talked once to her about it?

"You think the two might be linked?" George's voice inquired, interrupting her thoughts as it did so. "Arune and your Brother?"

She shook her head, before stopping the movement. "I'm not altogether sure." She wasn't, at that. There were many reasons why Arune wouldn't have talked to her about it, if it were indeed him she heard talking to her brother. He could be waiting for the right time, a time when _he_ had…sorted through, well, anything important enough to him to prevent him talking to her. He could be unwilling to get her involved, thinking her either too young, or not ready enough to go against Roger the way he desired to. _That_ thought set her blood boiling, but she realised that it was just a thought. 

_Or,_ a more rational part of her mind noted, _he might not have known who you were._

And there it was – the answer. "I think it was," she said to George, "I think he was linked to my brother." He wouldn't have talked to her about it because he had no reason to believe that she was anything besides what she claimed to be; Alanna the Shang Falcon. She assumed that Thom hadn't told anyone about her, and so Arune wouldn't have reason to believe that he even _had_ any siblings, let alone a twin sister with a desire to be anything besides a lady. Moreover, she herself had never revealed anything about a brother, or the rest of her family for that matter. No-one at the Shang village, besides Liam, knew she was noble-born, and she had never revealed to _anyone_ besides George and Jon that she possessed the Gift. Finally, there was her hair – perhaps the most innocuous factor, but one which would have prevented her from even arousing Arune's eye as a potential link to Thom. _Yes, he never talked to you about Roger or Thom because he had no idea that you were his sister, and he's not about to go around asking everyone whether they wish to do away with the current 'steward' of the King, is he?_

"For or against?" George asked, softly. "Best to know that, first of all."

She nodded, "Defiantly, need to know that." She muttered softly, "But I'm certain that he was against Roger. More than certain."

"Willing to stake your life on it, lass? Because if you do what I think you're going to do, then you might have to be." A level gaze accompanied George's words, and he appeared to be trying to force her to take his comment seriously. Not that there was any chance that she wouldn't…

Still, "And what do you think I'd do about it?"

George caught himself before he snorted, "What _wouldn't_ you do about it? You're going to go to him, asking him questions and all that. If he's _not_ who you think he is, then you're going to find yourself in trouble up to your pretty neck faster than you can think."

"I'm not stupid, George." She replied sharply, "I'm not going to ask him unless I'm sure about him. And yes, he might turn out to be an ally to Roger. He might even turn out to be not linked to this whole thing _at all_. But I'm fairly certain that I already am sure about him, who he is and what his motives are."

"Fairly certain ain't certain, lass."

"I _know_ that," she was beginning to get a bit frustrated now, and she could tell that her tone was reflecting that. Closing her eyes, she forced her anger down, continuing with a far calmer tone. "Look, George. I'm not going to do anything…rash, here. I know what could happen if I were wrong, and I'm going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening."

George smiled, raising his eyebrows slightly as he did so. "Aye? Then that's all I could ask for."

She returned the smile, "Good. And you don't have to worry about me, George. I've been, uh, investigating this for a while now – I know what I'm doing, and I know how to keep out of peoples attention."

"News to me." George shot back with a cheeky grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The grin remained firmly in place, "Just that I'd find it difficult for you to keep out of peoples attention. Something that I reckon is pretty evident, too, considering how much has been happening around here in the past few months."

Her mouth dropped open; "Wha-? The price on your head? That was _not_ my fault!"

"What about the ever increasing number of nobles here at dinners? What about those?"

"Who? Gary, Raoul and Alex? They've not been around for a long time?" George began to laugh under his breath, and she glared at him. "You're just poking fun at me, aren't you?"

"No, lass! I'm deadly serious." As if to prove his point, he peered over his shoulder, looking at various other patrons of the Dove. Evidently finding what he was looking for, he turned back to her, surreptitiously point to a table on the far side of the room. "Over there, the three men at the table."

She frowned, looking at the table he was pointing to. "And?"

"And what? They're nobles, Alanna! Nobles who wouldn't have been caught dead here a month or so ago. No, they all come to get a good long look at the Fighting Falcon!"

Her frown remained; _were they nobles?_ She couldn't really tell. They certainly looked _slightly_ more in the money than most other patrons, but….nothing about them really screamed nobility. Perhaps George _was_ merely having a laugh at her expense. She decided to move on. "Oh well, I doubt that that's the only reason, George. If they are nobles, they're probably just out here for, you know, the excitement. To mix with the roughest sorts, that kind of thing."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ that's the reason, aye." George rested his arms on the table, "Just a spot o' _roughhousing_, eh Alanna?"

She nodded, eyes closed, "Exactly," she replied, snootily. "You'll understand yet, George." George's reply was simple, a snort, accompanied by a wave of his hand. Grinning as the friendly banter gave way to relative silence once more, she began to once more dwell on her friendship with the man in front of her. More than anything else, at the moment, she needed to keep him close to her. She knew that if she allowed him to move away, for their close friendship to drift apart any more than it already had, could prevent it ever becoming as close in the future. They couldn't go back to what they had – George himself had said that, and she knew it for the truth, but they could have something relatively _similar_, couldn't they? 

The question was, of course, how best to go about such a thing? Could she do…this? Banter with him? Ask him questions about Thom and what she was doing with regards to him? _Could she talk to George about Jon_?

She bit her lip, then. That was the question, wasn't it? She knew the answer to the others – a simple 'yes' would suffice, more often then not. But Jon was another matter. The answer to this was something still left unsaid and unclear within the murkiness that was their current relationship. George probably didn't want to hear _some_ of the details of what she and Jon did, what she felt about Jon and the like. _Although he does know that you love him, and isn't that the only 'real' truth here?_ She felt like screaming; why did it have to be all so confusing?

_He doesn't like liars, remember that._

It was the truth, wasn't it? She had made this mistake in the past, made it again quite recently actually. Was lying to George about her heart, however, which was never really clear itself….no, she shouldn't consider anything relating to _that_ to be lying. It was too complicated, and she needed the possibility of keeping things to herself. It kept her sane, kept her whole.

Which didn't really make a whole lot of sense, if she tried to examine it rationally. She knew she shouldn't lie to George, and she didn't want to, but she knew that with regards to _some_ things that she not only _had_ to, but she should – for _George's _own benefit. So what _shouldn't_ she lie to George about? Everything else? Quite simply; yes.

"What?"

She frowned as George's voice intruded into her thoughts. "Sorry?"

"What was the question? You just said 'yes' out loud."

Oh. She hadn't meant to, though…perhaps this would be a good time to let George in on some things. Things which he would _like_ to know about. "Oh, uh, nothing all that much, really."

"But there's something, isn't there?"

She nodded softly at that. "I just wanted to tell you something. About tomorrow night, I mean."

"What about it?"

_How to go about this?_ "It's just- I should probably- Uh." A grimace spread over her face, "I just didn't want you to worry about me, and while I doubt that what I'm about to tell you will, you know, prevent that from happening, I just didn't want to lie to you. I know you want to know if I'm going to do anything…dangerous or anything, so…" she trailed off, trying to work out the best way to continue. "Anyway, I was talking to Jon a while back about Roger, and about Thom. And, well, to put things simply, he thinks that Roger's behind Thom's death. I do to, for that matter – but he also mentioned that there's really nothing that can be done to Roger, legally I mean, while he's still in the position that he's in."

"So tomorrow…?" George noted as Alanna didn't immediately continue talking.

"Tomorrow we're going to try to rectify that. I'm going to the palace, getting in thanks to Jon and by pretending to be a court Lady, and I'll try and find sufficient evidence of bad dealings by Roger. Sufficient evidence to have him, uh, demoted. To have him removed as advisor to the King and allow Jon to have him tried."

She watched as George simply sat there for a long while, apparently absorbing all that had been told to him. "So," he began, eventually, "How do you know that such evidence exists?"

"I don't." she replied simply. "I honestly don't know if such evidence _does_ exist, but we have to try."

George apparently didn't like this answer, "Do you? Do you really? You said it yourself – this is the only _legal_ way to remove Roger. What about other methods? I could have him killed, if you'd like. Did you think of that?"

"George," she began, ready to softly reason with him, before it struck her that it really _hadn't_ occurred to her. She'd always had the intention, ever since she met Jon at any rate, to bring Roger to justice in the _official_ sense of the word. _Perhaps that was the reason,_ she realised with a start, '_ever since you met Jon'. Do you want Jon to think you killed his cousin? He may not like him, may even _hate_ him, but does he want his cousin actually killed? _She didn't think so. "To be honest, no. I hadn't thought of that. But I don't want that to happen, and I don't think you would, either."

"Wha-?" George spluttered, "What makes you think that? If you asked, I'd send all of my men who'd go up against Roger."

She grimaced, "But it would mean you'd probably lose the Rogue. Having sent all those who supported you up against the Kings' Advisor wouldn't leave you in the best position. Jon would have to ensure that the Grand Provost didn't try and take your head for it, and you'd probably have to leave Corus!"

"So?"

It was that one word which shocked her more than all this talk of assassinations and murder. It showed just _how_ deeply George still cared for her. "I can't allow you to do that, George. I just can't allow your life to be ruined for _my_ benefit."

He shook his head softly, "But you wouldn't be ruining my life, don't you understand? Helping you would….it would be sufficient, don't you see that?"

"George…"

"I know, I'm sorry." He sighed, sadly. "I'm sorry. But Alanna, you shouldn't think that I can't help you in this. Because I _can_, and I want to – regardless of the cost. And yes, mostly I'd be doing it for you, because of my feelings towards you, but there _is_ another level to it. That's important to you, I know that, so you've got to understand that – just as I want to help remove Roger because of what he's done to you and your brother, I want to do it because of all the _other_ people who've suffered like you have by his hands. I want to help because I want to remove his blight from the land." 

"George," she started, heartfelt, before stupidly realizing just how often she said his name in that fashion. _I'm like a nagging mother_, she thought with a smile. "I never realised you were so nationalistic," she continued, "To suffer so that the life of a stranger is better off? Sounds like the Shang credo."

He shrugged at that, and she could _almost_ see his cheeks reddening slightly. "What can I say?" he replied in time, "I'm a patriot." She smiled at that; she was fairly certain that she wouldn't be asking for George's help in this endeavour – for herself and Jon it was quite a personal battle, after all, and she wanted to keep her friends out of danger as best she could, but it was always heartening to know she had support if she desperately needed it. George's mouth widened into a toothy grin after a short moment, "Either that, or I'm sick of his taxes scaring away all the fat-pursed merchants from these streets."

Roger himself could almost have heard her resultant laugh.  

***

Waking early the next morning, Alanna attempted to allow the day itself to be as normal as it could be. Exercises done, helping Nelly somewhat during the morning rush, chatting animatedly with Riven and George over lunch; she even had a long discussion of all things bothering her with Swift. Swift, the horse whom she'd all but abandoned during her time in the city. 

The poor thing, thankfully, wasn't in quite as bad condition as she'd feared. She was still strong and lean, and snorted happily as Alanna approached. "That's…odd." She noted. Not that she was necessarily _displeased_ with such a development – she had half-feared the worst when the notion of checking over the horse first came to her. She was sure George would have been more than willing to give her another horse, he seemed to have several excellent specimens, but that wasn't the point. So it was with quite a happy heart that she entered the stall to see a well kept horse happily trotting about its' stable. "And whose been looking after you, then girl?" she asked Swift softly, stroking its head as she did so. "Or are you some kind of wonder-horse that doesn't need any looking after? Clean and feed yourself, can you?"

"Not really." came a quiet voice from beside her, "She gets very dirty, actually."

She looked down to see Olly there, grubby face looking up at her with wide eyes reflecting…fear? "Olly?"

"H-hello Alanna. I mean Lady Alanna! Lady Alanna, sorry!"

Looking around furtively, she put a finger to her lips. "Shh, Olly. I don't want other people to know about that, remember? And I don't care if you don't call me just Alanna either. Remember that, too?" The boy nodded his head violently, dislodging a piece of hay as he did so. "Now, are you saying that you're the one who looked after Swift, here?"

The boy's eyes widened more, and he began to squirm. "Oh, miss. I'm sorry, I'm sorry about it. Really!"

Alanna frowned, "What are you talking about, Olly? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For riding her!" he managed to croak out, finally, after a good silence filled with more squirming. "For riding her and feeding her and cleaning her! Without askin'! Please don't be angry at Olly!"

"Ah," she understood now, and smiled. "No, Olly. I'm not going to be angry with you."

"You're not?"

"No. In fact, I'm in your debt."

The boy stopped squirming at that, his eyes narrowing in a silent question – one which he still felt needed to be verbalised. "What?"

"I owe you, Olly. I shouldn't have neglected her like I did, and if it _wasn't_ for you and your tending to her, well. She'd be in a pretty bad sort, wouldn't she?" Olly nodded, his large head lolling on his neck like he was being shaken. "So there you have it, I'm in your debt."

"Oh." Olly looked around, before he stepped closer to Alanna. "Oh, that's good then."

She smiled, "Yes, it's good. And if you ever want anything from me, just ask."

"Can-?" the boy frowned as he let his words trail off, shooting a glance towards the horses' stall as he did so. 

"Can what?"

"Can I…keep doing it?" he asked softly, "Keep taking care of her? I don't have to ride her, if you don't want."

Alanna grinned, "Yes, you can keep tending her. I'll pay you something for it, actually-"

"-No, you don't have to do that!"

"-And yes, you can keep riding her." A question popped into her head, "Where were you riding her, anyway?"

"You don't have to pay me, miss Alanna! Don't worry about that, just let me take care of her and all that. And like I said, I don't need to ride her!"

"But if you're going to take care of her properly, you'll have to ride her, won't you?" she asked, softly. "And you didn't answer my question – where did you take her when you were riding?"

"Oh." Olly blinked, as if he had only just heard the question. "Just…uh, around the city. I guess."

"Outside the walls?"

The boy nodded. "Most of the time, yes. I'd take him out the west gate – the guards there were very nice, they let me do it all the time. She'd run with me on her back and we'd go down to the sea, almost." Alanna noticed that a warm smile had crept onto Olly's face; he _greatly_ enjoyed this, she could tell. And if he greatly enjoyed taking care of her horse for her…well, there wasn't anything wrong she could see with that. Maybe she should just _give_ the boy Swift, it wasn't like she was using it…

Her smile slipped then – unless she needed it later. _Later_. After Roger. What was she going to do after…after whatever happened, happened? She didn't want to get ahead of herself, she still wanted to keep focused on what she needed to do to get rid of the man in question. But…leaving that aside for the moment, what was she going to do after she defeated him? Was she going to stay around? Was she going to stay at the Dove, or move into the Palace like Arune had suggested…_move in with Jon_? She could leave Corus, go adventuring for a while. She could go back and see Trebond at that, see Coram, Maude and her father again. Shang weren't supposed to be sedentary, and she had actually begun feeling a longing for the open road as of late; albeit one which was held in check by her desire to remove Roger. It had crept up on her during the week she spent holed up in the hovel with George – confinement was not something she enjoyed. 

"Miss Alanna?"

She looked down, and saw Olly watching her with a confused expression on his face. "Yes, Olly?"

"So I can keep looking after her, right?"

Her smile returned, slightly. "Yes, Olly. As I've already said three times, you can keep looking after her. You can keep riding her, as well. And I'm going to talk to Nelly about arranging a wage for you." Olly opened his mouth to refuse the offer once more, but she cut off his protestations with a finger to his lips. "No arguing Olly. I owe it to you for all the weeks you've spent looking after her, anyway."

"Alright, miss." Olly dejectedly said. _It was as if she'd refused his requests, rather than granted them and offered him money!_

"Would you mind running along now, Olly?" she asked, "I'd like to talk to Swift for a bit. Alone, if you don't mind." Olly nodded, his eyes widening once more, and he took off back into the inn. She turned back to the horse once Olly was out of eyesight, and sighed heavily. "I suppose I needed to think about these sort of things, didn't I?" she said softly to Swift. "On the one hand, I want to keep wandering for a bit; see the world, give to the people what a Shang should. But on the other hand…I want to stay with Jon. I love him, Swift, I really do, and I don't want to leave him."

Swift neighed loudly, sending her mane into Alanna's eyes.

"Thanks for the gentle ear, Oh horse of mine."

***

Alanna had eventually left Swift alone, and began the walk over to Eleni's house to prepare for the ball. It was still early, but she had been told by Eleni that preparing for a ball was like preparing for a battle; the more time you had beforehand the better. It wasn't the most reassuring analogy the older woman could have used, Alanna felt, but at least it was quite clear.

Still, she hadn't wanted to get there _too_ early, and had waited until the first hour after noon before leaving. This gave her plenty of time, she felt, and meant that she actually _had_ been able to accomplish things in the morning. Things which may or may not have been terribly important, but 'things' which she wanted to accomplish, at any rate.

Eleni's first words to her, however, left her questioning the wisdom of this attitude. "What are you doing, fool girl?!" 

"Sorry?" Alanna didn't quite understand; she'd gotten here with plenty of time before the coach was supposed to arrive to take her to the Palace, and she'd taken extra care to ensure that she hadn't gotten any dirtier than she needed to in the morning. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?!" Eleni repeated Alanna's words in a tone that could conservatively be labeled as 'shrieking'. "Did you stop for flowers along the way? See a good purchase at the markets, perhaps? What took you so long in getting here?"

Alanna replied stupidly, "I'm late?" _You're probably not helping yourself here…_

"Late?!" Eleni continued to repeat the last thing Alanna had said. She shook her head in wonderment as she ushered Alanna into the house, prodding her with a bony finger as she went by. "No, of _course_ you're not late! You're right on time – oh, that is, if you were heading out to a country fair! Fool girl!"

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"No! Not until you start acting like a woman, _girl_!"

Alanna narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth in preparation for unleashing a torrent of 'Look here!'s and 'You can't talk to me like that!'s. The words died in her throat, however, as she walked into Eleni's small living room…which was even _smaller_ than usual at the moment due to all the mature women packed into it. It was as if Eleni had invited around her entire social circle to help her in this 'battle'. "What's' going on? Eleni, why are all?- Hey!" The 'mature women' who seemed to surround her were now beginning to be a little too…helpful for Alanna's taste, tugging at her shirt as if to hurry her along the process.

"Just calm down, girl." Eleni's voice shrieked from behind her, and Alanna turned to see her flustered face, "Let us do our job and we'll try and make up for the time you've lost us!"

"Us?" Alanna queried quietly, before shaking her head. "Alright! Alright, I'm sorry for turning up…late….but can you at least let _me_ handle the undressing thing? I'd rather do it myself, you realise?" Catching Eleni narrowing her eyes at her tone, she quickly added "Please?"

There were a number of murmur's all about, and Alanna began to wonder whether or not each of the women present were actually individuals, or whether it was just some large collective – bee-like, with Eleni as their queen. This certainly seemed to be the case, as Eleni clicked her fingers and the entire group fell silent almost instantly. "I suppose, girl, that we could accommodate that. But you'd best be quick, you understand me!"

"Yes, Eleni." Alanna replied, reverently, before shooting upstairs to the bedroom. She supposed that she shouldn't be angry at Eleni – after all, the woman had helped her greatly, in fact was _still_ helping her greatly right at this very moment in a manner which no-one else she knew could help her in, but…she still didn't really appreciate being treated like a child. "Not like I was _that_ late, was I?"

The realization that she just didn't _know_ indicated just how much she needed Eleni in this regard. 

***

Sure enough, after a good few hours preparing for the night ahead, Alanna was meekly doing whatever it was she was 'asked' to do. Asked, of course, being a relatively…_sugary_ term for the current situation. 'Hold this, Alanna', 'Turn this way, Alanna', 'Don't do that, keep still, Alanna', 'Move into the light, now', 'I said keep still, Alanna.'

Keep still. Huh. Standing in roughly the same spot for hours on end. She'd had enough of 'keeping still' for a lifetime.

_Still_, her rebellious mind wistfully noted as the woman all seemed to congregate together once more, _they've done a rather stellar job, haven't they?_ She had to agree with…herself there, at any rate. There was no mirror as of yet, what with it apparently being 'bad luck' for the young woman to see herself before the _ensemble _was finished, but she could still look at herself. A liberty which she exercised quite regularly, for that matter.

She knew she liked the dress – she had, after all, worn it two days previously, albeit only briefly. It _was_ a little too revealing, but Eleni had convinced her that if she didn't want to look like a prude (something which Alanna herself originally hadn't been _terribly_ concerned about, not until Eleni had whispered to her that she _did_ want to try and attract as little attention as possible. Where Eleni had divined such a concept, well – that was beyond Alanna at the moment. Nevertheless, she was right), then she'd best deal with it. And to her credit, Alanna felt that she _had_ dealt with it now. Yes, the cut was low, but it wasn't all _that_ low…so she kept telling herself. Moreover, it wasn't too long, and with the comfortable boots being provided for her it was certainly far more maneuverable than she had at first feared a ball dress would be like.

The boots in question were already on her feet, something she was slightly surprised about. When she asked just why she was pushed into them almost as soon as she had washed, Eleni had pointed out that she was not particularly skilled in walking in heels – and why give up a few more hours practice? Alanna couldn't really argue with that…even though her feet were beginning to throb painfully. _Beauty is pain_. She gritted her teeth, _beauty may well be pain, but this pain isn't always necessarily going to work on that beauty concept! Not that beauty is all that important tonight, is it?_

"Stop grinding your teeth, Alanna."

"Sorry, Eleni."

"And stop moving about, dear!"

"Sorry, Eleni."

They were onto her hair, now. It was strange, about four different women were standing about her, all with both hands seemingly affixed to her head. _What_ they were doing up there…Alanna wasn't really sure she wanted to know. She could see other women handing them pins upon pins, some large and pointy, others…well, others that were not quite so large and pointy. Still, she was surprised that her neck could still support the weight of her head, considering the amount of metal being placed up there.

Maybe it can't. Maybe they've all got their hands on your head to make sure that it doesn't collapse…

She giggled slightly at that. A ridiculous thought, yes, but ridiculous thoughts were all the company that she had had for the last few hours. Any time she tried to think on subjects of a more angst ridden nature, she was criticized. 'Don't frown, Alanna. You'll get lines, and you don't want lines'. No, she probably didn't want lines if she was pressed for choice. But if not getting lines meant constraining oneself to only 'happy thoughts' for ones entire life, then she most certainly _did_ want lines. Not that she'd say such a thing to Eleni, of course.

"Don't move like that, Alanna." The disapproving voice of Eleni floated into Alanna's ears, not that she _dared_ look around to find out exactly where it had originated from. "We're almost done, and we don't want you spoiling all our work by laughing so hard you can't control how your head is moving."

And that would be bad because…? 

"Sorry, Eleni. I'll try and keep as serious as possible."

"Don't do that! No! Just, try and smile softly, alright girl? And don't move a muscle!"

She still didn't like being called 'girl', but if they were almost done perhaps it wouldn't be too much just to grin and bear it. _A Shang is trained to be immobile as the Rock. Accept whatever punishment is coming to you and accommodate it into who you are – forge yourself in the pain._

Did she really want to 'forge' herself from the torture that was standing still amidst a gaggle of old harpies as they tore and prodded her body and hair? Perhaps not. She was fast discovering that while she liked the 'beauty' aspect of their work, she wasn't entirely sure if the 'pain' was quite worth the reward. Surely it must be something looked upon in hindsight as being 'bearable'? How could so many other women go through it again and again and again if this was not the case? _Of course, comparing yourself with real, noble-born court ladies is what got you into this mess in the first place, wasn't it?_ She just stopped herself from gritting her teeth at that thought. True, it was. Perhaps it would be best to just accept what was happening now, and treat it as an 'experience'. Learn from it – if it's later decided to be worth the hassle, then let it occur again.

Otherwise…look haggard. She could deal with that.

Can Jon? 

No. Don't think potentially frown-inducing thoughts. Bad Alanna. 

"I think- There! I think we're done now, don't you, ladies?" Alanna was dragged back to what amounted to an unfortunate reality at this moment by Eleni's voice, followed by a dozen others clamouring in agreement. "Yes, I think we've done it."

_Oh thank Mithros._ "Can I see now?" She asked, hopefully, widening her smile and almost fluttering her lashes as she attempted to coax a mirror out of one of the women here. "I mean, if you think you're _truly_ done now."

"Oh, we're not truly done, not by a longshot." Eleni replied, causing Alanna's heart to drop suddenly. "But I don't think there's any harm in you seeing now. We've only got the makeup to go, which shouldn't take quite as long as the hair."

The very idea that it _might_ have taken as long as the hair was almost enough to send Alanna's wavering smile to the depths of the underworld, but she maintained it. Just. "Oh. Good."

"That tone better perk up, girl."

"Sorry, Eleni." She sighed softly, thankfully low enough so that no-one heard. _It was just difficult for her_. "It's just a little-"

"Difficult for you." Eleni finished, allowing the first smile Alanna had seen on the older woman's face this evening to dawn, "I know, Alanna. That's the only reason I've been hard on you – you _were_ a little late, but I know that's more to do with your lack of knowledge rather than anything else you did or didn't do. We had to make up some time, time which we wouldn't have gathered if you were constantly fighting us."

"Oh." It did make sense. "Oh."

"But we're going to still need you to follow our instructions for a little while longer, alright? Just until the make-ups done, then you can do what you will." Eleni let her smile fade, and the stony-eyed gaze she had apparently perfected over the night return, "Is that acceptable?"

Alanna almost nodded, before realizing that doing so might not be the best thing at this current moment in time. "Yes. Definitely. Thank you, Eleni. Thank you everyone."

That certainly seemed to placate them; smiles creased faces wherever she looked after that. 'Isn't she a contrite girl?', 'Lovely mannered', 'I know just the boy for her…' _Oh dear, what have I done?_

The answer to that question was soon evident, as the large mirror she had been in front of numerous times over the past month was wheeled into the room. A path was cleared so that Alanna could walk to it as easily as she could, and she quickly set about getting there. She wasn't quite as proficient with the high-heeled boots as she would have desired, so her steps were slower and slightly more cautious than she may have wished, but at least she wasn't trembling anymore with every step. The heels weren't all that high, or so Eleni had claimed, and the strong leg muscles she possessed together with a natural sense of balance…well. She wasn't a natural, but she wasn't too bad at the whole walking thing. 

Which was a bonus.

She could see herself in the mirror now, and a similar thought to that which struck her the _last_ time she had worn this dress emerged into her mind. She was pretty. The women had pinned her hair to her head in some kind of elaborate roll, small strands of hair flowing out of the seething mass to frame her face well. The dress accentuated her natural colouring, and – best of all, she thought, the wonderful boots made her almost appear another foot taller. 

"Wow."

"I see you've not learnt your lesson," Eleni whispered warmly, "It's unbecoming to be so vain."

"It's not vanity, it's just that I've never really seen myself like this before. It changes how I, uh, think about myself."

Eleni chuckled under her breath, "Then I'd say we've done our job well."

***

They continued to do so, with the make-up process taking considerably shorter than Alanna had feared. Furthermore, it accentuated and heightened the effect she had seen earlier. While she considered herself pretty without make-up, with it…she was more than pretty. Alanna was hesitant to use any, _stronger_ word, mainly because she thought that pretty was quite appropriate. She wasn't beautiful like many of the other Court ladies, or at least she didn't think so, because she lacked the delicate fineness that such ladies carried with them. Being a Shang prevented such attributes, as Alanna's wrists and arms were quite well developed. She would never be considered _beautiful,_ no. 

But pretty? Yes, she thought so. With the highlighting and other work done by the ladies on her face with powders and creams, this was accentuated. She'd been granted some jewelry too, little pieces mostly. Items' whose owners had stressed the _temporary_ nature of their loan. Silver earrings from one of the women framed her face well (even if the holes in her ears were still a tad too raw for them to be in there. Eleni had jammed them in regardless, probably assuming that since she was Shang she could stand the pain. And she could, although she'd rather not), and a ring granted to her by Eleni worked well, too. She had contributed to the collection herself; Thom's pendant lay around her neck as it usually did, though this time the purple sheen of the amethyst was visible to the naked eye.

"Won't Johnny be in for a surprise?" Eleni had whispered to her once she had applied the final brush stroke of face powder, "After almost fainting at the sight of you in just the dress, think how he'll react when he sees you like _this_."

Alanna didn't particularly _want_ to think on it, now that the time was upon her. She had been torn all evening – thoughts about both Jon and 'the aim' of the nights activities floating around her mind in equal measure. She wanted to ignore all the thoughts of Jon, to focus on what she _needed_ to do…only for the reality of the situation to take hold; she wouldn't have had to be going through this particularly tedious experience if she _wasn't_ trying to impress Jon. Which then sent her into a spiral, questioning her motives over the nights activities.

Which, of course, would inevitably result in her being yelled at by Eleni for 'thinking frown-inducing thoughts'. So, she'd stop thinking about it – only to have her mind drift back onto Jon, which would start the whole cycle over.

So really, the question was, as it had been for quite some time now, was it _good_ that 'Johnny' might be surprised by how she looked? Was it _good_ that she might be distracted by what she was doing tonight? What she and Jon had planned together? If she were being pragmatic about it all, the answer was a pretty clear no. But…pragmatism was rather unappealing, so she had increasingly felt. She was strong, she was determined – and she was going to do what she had to do tonight, regardless of how she looked or what people thought about her.

She hoped.

***

It was quite incredible, really. A carriage, an actual _carriage_, had just drawn up in front of Eleni's small house a few miles away from the palace. Some of the neighbours had exited their houses, excitedly talking and pointing at the carriage as the two fine horses snorted and stamped as the driver reigned them in. Following this, he had reached into his pocket to retrieve a scrap of paper. 

"Any one of you Lady…uhh…" He scratched his head, peering more intently at the paper. In the end, he just gave up, looking around at the rapidly assembling crowd of people. "I don't suppose anyone here knows who I'm supposed to be collecting?" Which, to be fair to the poor man, probably wasn't meant to be quite as open as it came out – a dozen girls, and a handful of boys at that, immediately began screeching and waving their hands back and forward. 'Me! Me!' Drops of sweat began to bead on the drivers forehead, and he surreptitiously grasped the reigns again.

Thankfully he didn't bolt away, as Eleni called out to him, "She's in here, Stefan! One moment, and she'll be ready."

The crowd became, at the same time, more subdued and more anxious. Those who had been attempting to get the drivers' attention were silenced, but those with only a passing interest became more incensed – just _who_ was this person that the carriage was here to collect? And where were they going? It was such a fancy carriage at that, could it be that their destination was the palace, rather than just a nobles house?

"You'd best hurry," Eleni called out to Alanna from the doorway. "There's quite a crowd gathering here, you know, and Stefan is not the most quick witted of men ever to grace this earth."

"Probably not the best thing to say to the man about to drive me to the palace, Eleni." Alanna told the woman softly as she whisked by, "Might cause him to hold a grudge."

"No it won't." Eleni replied confidently, "Because he couldn't hear a word I just said. Plus it's true – I know it, he knows it."

Alanna grinned, nervous energy causing her to blush slightly. "It's not nice to say nasty things about people when they're not able to defend themselves."

"Since when did that ever stop anyone, however? Anyway, best be going now, dear."

"Thank you, Eleni." Alanna sincerely noted, "Thank you for everything you've done for me."

The older woman almost appeared to blush, or so Alanna thought. "Never you mind, dear. It's fun for someone my age to mould someone like a doll. Dressing you up, teaching you how to act – it's like I could be young again."

"Doll?" Alanna echoed, somewhat troubled by that description.

But Eleni apparently wouldn't let her dwell on the notion, smiling widely as she tapped her on the shoulder "Go now, dear." And with that, she placed a hand at the small of Alanna's back and propelled her towards the carriage. "Here you are, Driver." She said, "Here's the one you're taking."

"Ah," the man replied, eyes bugging as he saw Alanna, "Yes, she certainly looks it, doesn't she?" _Looking_ was certainly what the man was doing, and Alanna couldn't get the thought out of her head that he wasn't the only one. Shooting glances around her, she saw eyes everywhere locked onto her – men perhaps wanting her, older women perhaps wanting to look like her once more, and younger girls perhaps wanting to be her; to be dressed up and getting onto a carriage that would sweep them away to a palace, where they would meet a handsome prince and never want for anything ever again…

Actually, there's a handsome King at the palace, and I have a feeling that I'll still be wanting for things after I get there. Most of all, I'm wanting to not be noticed as I go about snooping around a powerful enemy's rooms.

Which, she had begun to realise, might be a little more difficult than anticipated. "Hopefully there'll be a lot of very graceful, very beautiful noblewomen at this ball," she muttered to herself, "otherwise things might be a little irksome." After shooting a hot glare at the driver, who took a long opportunity to leer at her as he opened the door for her, she quickly entered and settled herself down on the seat. A large envelope lay to one side, and she picked it up as quick as she could, tearing the thing open as she did. As she pulled out the large sheet of card that lay within, she noticed the large red, wax seal that lay on the cards' back. Taking a quick look at what was written on the other side of the page, she realised that this was the Royal Patronage that Jon had been so adamant about her requiring.

Placing it to one side, she clasped her hands tightly in front of her knees. 

Alright then, here we go.

***

The carriage had wound its way through the dingy streets of Lower Corus, before noticeably altering its gradient as it made its way up a subtle hill towards the Palace itself. Alanna could barely sit still, hitching her dress down every few moments, twitching her hands as they tried to shift hairs away from her face (with the time spent on arranging it in such a fashion, she was going to do all in her power to prevent anything from dislodging it)

The carriage shuddered to a halt, and she heard the driver calling out to her. "We're at the gates, uh, M'Lady." He seemed somewhat hesitant on that last word. Not that she could blame him, really. While it wasn't likely that she'd be a lady, considering where he picked her up from, she _looked_ like a Lady, and she _was_ going to a royal ball. "Just sit tight, some Guards'll be round in a moment."

"Thank you." She replied, if only to fill the silence. The Guards would be the easy part of this evening, she knew that. They'd take a long look around, ensure she was who the invite said she was, those kinds of things – but with Jon's Patronage with her, there was very little they could do to her. Oh, they could ask her all sorts of questions, but as long as she stuck to the story Jon had apparently set out for her, that she was Lady Alanna of Murmond (not that she had the _slightest_ idea of where this Murmond was, if it even existed), then she'd be alright. 

And on the off chance that she _wasn't_ alright…well. She'd fought her way through a palace gateway before, she could possibly do it again. With a little more difficulty this time, thanks to the Guards probable readiness and her own constrained circumstances – i.e. the dress and boots – but she _could_ do it, she knew it. But that was not the ideal situation, suffice to say. They were going to have a slim window of opportunity for her to look around Roger's chambers anyway, she didn't want an alert of some kind to narrow this window any more.

No, best to hope Jon's name carries the sort of weight it should. Hope that these Guards have already had quite a long night, and don't really want to take more notice of the people entering the palace than they should.

Which is quite a strange thought. Wanting those who Guard the man you love to be lax about their duties. Funny, in that disturbing way.

A knock at the carriage door broke her out of her reverie, and she smoothly moved to open it. It swung open to reveal the faces of three guards, one of which was reaching a hand out to her. "Patronage, M'Lady."

She frowned slightly, before retrieving the document in question and handing it to the Guard. He skimmed it quickly for a moment, before taking another look at her. She met his eyes solidly, before realizing that doing so wasn't very Ladylike, and thus not in keeping with her disguise. Shifting her gaze over his shoulder, she noticed the other two Guards smiling at her. One even waggled his eyebrows at her.

_This is what comes with wearing a dress, obviously. You had more than enough attention _without_ being all made up, remember?_

She grimaced slightly, but forced a small smile onto her face as if to thank the Guards for their…appreciation. Turning back to the front Guard, she opened her mouth to speak. "Is everything in order?"

'Uh, yes M'Lady. I think so, anyway." He frowned at the paper, then at her, then at the paper again. Alanna began to get slightly uneasy. "If you don't mind me asking, where's this Murmond place?"

Now she was _definitely _uneasy. Did he genuinely not know, or was he trying to test to see if she knew? _Damn, Jon_. She knew that he had to choose a small fief that wasn't all that well known, to ensure that she wasn't asked more questions than she was now, but why did he have to pick one quite so obscure? Or one which _might _not even exist! She licked her lips slightly in anxiety, "Murmond?" she repeated, before blurting out the first thing that popped into her head, "Why it's slightly east of…uh…Trebond. Haven't you heard of it?"

The Guard shook his head, and smiled at her. "No, M'Lady. I hadn't, but it's good to see that we get folks from as far as that coming to these events. What with the relatively similar crowd that we always seem to get, it's good to see a new face."

"Thank you, " she said, wondering what his title might be, "Uh, Captain?" 

"Uh, no M'Lady. Just a Sergeant." He corrected, handing her back the letter of Patronage.

"Ah." She grinned, "Well, thank you, Sergeant."

"And you, M'Lady. Enjoy the evening." And with that, she ducked her head back into the Carriage, and with a crack of the Driver's reigns it rolled on into the Palace grounds. They hadn't gone all that much further, or so it appeared to Alanna, when it once more shuddered to a halt. This time, however, there was nothing said to her by the Driver, and Alanna began to worry slightly. Footsteps followed, as did the sounds of whispered voices hurriedly conducting a conversation a little way away from the carriage itself. Officially worried now, she lifted herself off the seat and carefully stalked towards the carriage door.

She didn't like being surprised, and if someone was going to burst in through the door in the near future – whether the driver or another crony, someone who perhaps was a little more interested in the 'Lady from Murmond' than she had hoped – she wanted to be able to deal with them. _As difficult as that may well be in this dress…_It was then that she realised that the conversation outside had ended, and that someone was moving towards the carriage.

"Alanna?" Jon's voice rose up out of the silence outside, "Can you hear me?"

"Jon?" she reached for the carriage door, wanting to throw it open. "Is that you?"

"Yes. It's me." At that she did unlatch the door, pushing it open and scanning about. Sure enough, Jon was standing just there, waiting for her. As she stepped out of the dark carriage, into the dim torchlight that seemed to spread across whichever part of the palace grounds they were currently on, his eyes widened in astonishment. "Wow. You look amazing, Alanna."

She blushed softly, "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself." He didn't; a wonderfully resplendent black tunic matching well with his hair and slacks. Simple, but _decidedly_ effective, was how Alanna would have described it. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Isn't that slightly risky?" She shot quick glances around the clearing, noting that they were drawn up alongside one of the buildings outside the Palace itself. There didn't appear to be anyone else about, but it always paid to be careful. Jon may dominate her attention, but thankfully it wasn't dominating it _too_ much – she still had her wits about her.

"Well, if I'm being honest, yes it is." He smiled gently, "But it was worth it for seeing you like this, alone, at any rate." He grasped her arms then, drawing her closer to him. "By Mithros, you're beautiful, Alanna."

"It's not wise to lie to a girl, Jon."

"I'm not lying," he said, before smoothly drawing her face up to his, meeting her lips with his in a gentle kiss. "I missed you, over the past two days."

She nodded, "So did I."

Jon smiled, "So I wanted to see you. Now, anyways. Before it all happens." He glanced around quickly, checking his surroundings. "And I wanted to talk to you about, uh, possible problems."

"Problems?" 

"No! No, I said that wrong." He looked at the ground, "What I meant was _if_ there's any problems. If Roger decides to head out to his chambers, something like that. If he catches wind that something's happening, I need to get in touch with you."

"That would be useful, yes."

"I know you don't like using your Gift, or having anyone else using there's near you-" _A little behind there,_ Alanna thought. She'd come to accept her Gift in recent times; she still didn't love the ability, but it was proving more useful than hindrance. "but I can manage to communicate with you by, uh, linking my mind with yours for a short time. Talk with you, but without actual _talking_."

"I won't assume to understand how it works, Jon." She said with a grin, "But if you think it's the easiest way to do things, then we should probably go ahead with it. I won't claim that using my Gift fills me with joy, but I can accept its' use."

"You can?" Jon seemed thrown for a moment, before quickly regaining his composure. "I mean, that's great! It's probably the safest way of doing this without, you know, not communicating at all. It doesn't require either of us actually talking, and it happens instantaneously."

"Can Roger trace your actions? Can he tell if you've used your Gift?"

Sighing, he nodded at that. "Yes, he probably can."

"Probably?"

"I'm not altogether sure, but I'd assume he could. But that doesn't change anything, this is still the best way of doing it. Even if Roger _does_ notice that I've used my Gift, I can cover it, pretend I'm doing something else."

Alanna wasn't terribly sure of that. Roger was clever, he _must_ be; did Jon think he'd be fooled by something as basic as that? But…she couldn't think of anything else, and they _did_ need some way of communicating with each other. This was quick, too, which made things a little safer for her. _And to be honest, I'm the one in the immediate danger, anyway. If Roger turns on Jon, at least I can try and help him then._ "Can you handle that?" she asked Jon, eyes widening as she realised how that sounded, "I mean, do you think he'll turn on you if he thinks you're working against him?"

"He might. I don't know." Jon suddenly pulled her against him, "Are you ready to go ahead with this, Alanna? I know that you want to get back at Roger for what he did to Thom, but…this is my fight, really. I don't want you to be harmed while trying to help me."

_What?_ "Yes, Jon. I'm going ahead with this, don't worry about me." _Exactly; I can take care of myself._ "It's you that I'm worried about – if Roger turns on you, tonight I mean, are you going to be alright?" She felt him nod sharply above her, "Good. Good. Then we'll have no more of this nonsense about this being 'your fight', alright? He's harmed us both, and the both of us together are going to best him."

She felt Jon's chest move, a hollow chuckle floating down to her. "Yes, m'Lady. I will obey your instructions. On your honour shall I uph- Oof!"

"Don't be pert." She whispered, sternly. Her face broke into a grin as Jon began to rub the place where she'd struck him. "So, how long do we have before everything starts?"

"Pert?" Jon mumbled, "I wasn't being pert!" He frowned, "What does 'pert' mean, anyway?"

"It means you were being cheeky. And try and focus, Jon."

"Sorry. Anyway, I've got to be at the ball in about a half hour. Actually," he turned his head, looking back towards an illuminated doorway that Alanna hadn't noticed before. There was a servant there with a lantern, one which was hooded oddly, or so Alanna thought, "probably a little less than that. So we don't have long."

_Damn. _She wished they had a little more time. It wasn't as if they were saying goodbye or anything, but…it was still a tense time, right? _Probably best to get what you need now, at least. Just in case time runs out. _"I need to know where Roger's chambers are, Jon." 

He frowned slightly at that, before nodding sharply. "Ah, of course. Yeah, well that's why I had Stefan bring you around here. It's the closest entrance to Roger's chambers, and it's quite simple to get there. I'll take you to a corridor, and then from there it's the first left, first right and then the third door down." He grinned as Alanna began whispering the details to herself quietly, "If you can remember the first two directions, you should find it. It's pretty obvious which door is his."

_That's useful_. "And after I've finished? Well, if I finish? What then? Should I just try and leave the Palace, and we can meet at the Dove tomorrow?"

Jon shook his head, "No, I don't think that would be best. Perhaps," he added hopefully, "you could come out and attend the ball?" 

"I'm not sure about that." _Though it would be a shame to waste the dress…_"It's not that I don't want to, but doing that complicates things a lot."

"Alright," he shrugged, a somewhat disappointed look stealing across his features for a moment, "You're probably right. I'll head down to the Dove early tomorrow. You can get out with the Patronage."

"Good, good." She stepped back from him then, and placed one of her hands on his chest. "And I want you to be careful too, alright? Don't go getting yourself into any trouble at my expense."

"I don't think I'd be able to stop myself, if you needed it."

She shook her head calmly, "You're just like George, aren't you? Please understand that I can take care of myself a lot of the time."

"Ah, but who are we to comprehend the workings of the heart?" Jon all but recited, clasping her hand in his own.

"Sorry?"

"We – I care for you, Alanna. I love you with all my heart, and I'm going to try and protect you. It's a part of that caring, the overprotection." _Doesn't mean I have to like it, does it?_ "But I know that you can take care of yourself. To a degree, at least."

She decided not to pick up on that last part. "Well I want you to be careful too, regardless."

"And I promise you I will, Alanna." 

"Good." Alanna nodded, accepting his promise. "And I'll promise you, in return, that I'll _also _be cautious." She grinned up at him, "Well. Looks like we're all set, then."

"Looks like."

Her grin widened, _I know it's best to just get on with what I'm here for, but I can't resist…_Thanks to the boots, she didn't have to stand on tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to her own and showing him how she felt. His arms slid around her waist, holding her tightly as he let his own lips do some non-verbal communication. In time they pulled apart, somewhat breathless, before she let her kiss-swollen lips spread into a wide, warm grin. "I love you, Jon."

"I love you too, Alanna." He intoned in reply, smiling himself. "And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You _do_ look beautiful."

***

There had been one or two – _or five_ – more passionate embraces before the two of them had set out, shadowed by the servant she had seen earlier ("He's trustworthy," Jon had whispered to her in response to her silent question. "He's another one of George's 'spies' here, and I'd trust him with my life." She'd kept her thoughts, _Well that's good, because we _are, to herself. Another fine decision, or so she thought) towards the hallway Jon had mentioned. Sure enough, he'd left her once he arrived at a very wide hall, pointing wordlessly along its length towards where she assumed the first turn was. After a final hurried kiss, he had quickly strolled off in the opposite direction. 

If she strained her ears, she could tell that the rather loud noise, the ball she assumed, was certainly taking place down that way. _And as much as your heart may be telling you to run down there after Jon, to spend the rest of the night in his embrace, your head is telling you to go the other way. To Roger's chambers and potential…harm. _

She grimaced. Yes, it was necessary to do this – right? Roger needed to fall, and she and Jon looked like the only ones who could do it. George's name flitted across her mind, but no. She wasn't going to entertain that thought; George's life would fall apart if he helped her in this endeavour. The best thing she could do for him would be to keep him uninvolved. Arune's name also flashed briefly, and she was once again struck with the question of what his role in this whole mess entailed, but she pushed the queries down. She didn't know anything for certain about him; a dream and a hunch didn't add up to anything.

Shaking her head, realizing that she'd probably been standing stock still in the hallway for a long few seconds, she quickly hurried down the corridor looking for the turning she needed. Following Jon's directions, she managed to move a good distance through winding hallways which she knew she'd have had difficult with otherwise, finally ending up in a small section of passage with numerous doors lining each wall. 

Thankfully, she'd so far remained undisturbed. She wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could. Trying to be silent had been a little more challenging with the heeled boots that she was wearing, but it was easy enough. 'Stealth paid dividends silently', or so the Shang saying went. It was something which was a challenge to do well, but it was always worth doing. One wasn't looking for results while engaging in it, rather, it was the opposite effect one sought.

Peering at the doors in this section, she almost immediately discovered what Jon had meant – while most of the doors had simple knobs on them, and none had knockers, one large specimen had particularly elaborate examples of both. Standing in front of it, she took a quick glance about. No-one. 

Now then,_ she sighed, _the hard part. Getting in.

Of course, she'd realised that Roger wasn't going to allow any random passer by to walk into his private chambers without warning – no, for a spell caster of his repute there'd be wards. Powerful wards. Wards which Alanna had no real understanding of.

Not that she really understood anything about magic, come to think of it.

Still, she knew one thing. That her Gift was able to destroy other spells. The Goddess had taught her the skill to break through the magic present in the secret passage going into the grounds of the palace, but it was Alanna's idea to use it now. To_ push _her Gift into the locks, to cause the spell weaving's present here to burst as she had caused the other pattern to. Her Gift wasn't something she was comfortable with, not yet anyway, but she would never again neglect it – it was a part of who she was, and it was something which could prove useful to her in the future.

As it was about to now.

Taking a step away from the door, she began to concentrate, calm herself. She looked within herself, to the very core of herself, to find the magic; prod it, and coax it to life. It grew, faster than the last time, amethyst tendrils spearing upwards and outwards, suffusing her with their power. She could_ feel _it within her, tearing this way and that throughout her. She gasped at it, and opened her eyes.

The door…was almost completely blocked by a massive pattern of intermingling threads, orange threads, pulsing with energy. She had been right, more right than she had anticipated, come to think of it. The door was warded, though warded with spells so complicated that she began to worry if her Gift would be sufficient in destroying them. She reached back down into herself, grasping hold of one of the tendrils of her magic and_ tugging _it out of her. The feeling of being closer to_ life_ _itself _filled her again, but she was ready for it this time. Remembering the Goddess words about not drawing too much at once, she forced herself to be content with this amount of power she had gathered already, and turned to the doorway.

A thought suddenly reared in her mind, and she lost her concentration completely. The magic fizzled out, and an almighty pounding began in her head. Unfortunately (or fortunately, although Alanna didn't consider it thusly), this was not strong enough to drown out the thought that had caused her to lose her focus in the first place._ If Roger can feel Jon using his Gift to contact me, however small amount of power that requires, then surely he'll feel when I destroy his wardings. How long does that give me, then? Five minutes, maybe ten? _

She sank back, resting her back up against the doorway as she massaged her temples._ No, no, no! This isn't right!  I can't do this whole thing in that time, I'll never find what I need! And then Roger will still know that someone's been in his room, and he'll reinforce the wards…_She groaned quietly, this was their only chance at this, and she only had a limited time frame within which to find this proof that they desperately required.

Rising to her feet, Alanna gritted her teeth. It wasn't quite 'now or never', but it was certainly 'now or much later'. And that, she knew, just was not acceptable. Time_ was _of the essence, after all. Nodding softly, she began to focus once more. Her breathing slowed, eyes closing as she turned inwards once more to the pulsing core. 

A flare of magic, a strand tugged away from the centre and out of herself…the rush of life, vivant and bright. 

Holding the magic in her hand, she pulled more of it._ If time is of the essence, then let's break this down quickly_.The light, the joy that came with holding the magic began to increase, and as she continued to draw the sweetness began to sting. The stinging grew, until it burned her, yet she still drew what she could bear. As the pain increased to a level she had never before experienced, she decided that it was enough, and cut the flow. And with that, she gritted her teeth, and forced the magic into the weavings on the doorway.

Just like in the tunnel, the pattern began to bulge and stretch. The threads were like elastic, however, and didn't look like they were about to tear any time soon. Alanna frowned, and thrust more power into them. More amethyst power entered the weave, and more stretching became evident. She didn't understand; were the wards too powerful for her, or was she doing it wrong?

_There-! _A thread gave way, snapping silently. The threads around it began to loose shape too, until a small hole had presented itself to her vision. She pulled some of her magic from elsewhere on the weaving, thrusting it through the hole, trying to flex it about – a finger thrust through a hole in one's clothing increases the size of the hole, after all. The magical orange threads appeared to behave similarly, as the hole began to widen as she thrust more and more of her Gift through it. It's edges almost reached the edge of the door now, only a little more-

And then the pattern burst. With an audible pop (one that Alanna considered deafening), the threads seemed to scatter in all ways at once. Alanna let her Gift die down again, breathing a somewhat exhausted sigh of relief, before pushing open the door and entering Roger's chambers. As she pushed the door closed she collapsed against it, breathing heavily as she let a weary smile creep over her lips. Lips which were suddenly moistened by a warm trickle, one which Alanna discovered to be her own blood as she wiped the back of her hand under her nose. It appeared that bleeding noses were a common result of the magic she had just employed.

Careful not to get any blood on her dress (it was bad enough that it was getting particularly dusty from all this sitting about; blood wouldn't add to it's appeal_ in the slightest_), she pushed herself to her feet. It would have been nice to catch her breath, but she just didn't have the time. Allowing her eyes to focus to the dim light available, she took her first firsthand look at the rooms of her adversary.

They were large, which she already knew, and were decorated in the same overbearing style that she remembered from her dreams. Large, dark items of furniture spread about, wide tables cluttered with notes and pieces of equipment. It looked, to her anyway, that a half-dozen people used these rooms, rather than just one. Maybe they did, she wasn't entirely sure, but she wasn't going to place any money on the likelihood of a man like Roger allowing people to come in here. True, she_ had _only met the man once in reality, but she'd gotten enough information from that one encounter, not to mention the Roger in her dreams, to come up with what she considered a relatively sound image of his character.

As cluttered as the room looked, there were a few areas which looked a little more clear. One of these, Alanna noticed, was over near one wall. A large object, covered in a sheet, dominated the small area to the exclusion of everything else. To her amazement, there even appeared to be a somewhat dense layer of dust lying about the object, a rough semi-circle of dirt that seemed at odds with the well-worn and utilised appearance of most everything else in the room.

Of course, she recognised it instantly – this was the thing Thom had been searching for, or had at least been particularly interested in at any rate. This was the object that he had been…uncovering…when he was killed.

_It's strange, _she thought solemnly as she began to finger Thom's pendant_, I feel closer to Thom here than I have done in years. Here, where he died…_She shook her head, trying to dislodge the morbid thought, before quickly stepping closer to the covered object. Dream-Thom had called it 'dangerous', so she was cautious in her approach. Or at least, she was _attempting_ to be cautious; her knowledge of magic and of the potential traps that magic could devise was strictly limited to whatever the Goddess had deigned to divulge to her on their previous meeting. Regardless of how much natural aptitude Alanna may possess when it came to magic, her ability to remove – even detect! – such potential traps was about as miniscule as…well…about as miniscule as had her skills at 'lady hood' been up until a few weeks ago.

That though set a small quirk into her lips;_ Look at me now…Dressed up for a ball, hair styled, makeup on, waiting for my love…It's a good thing I ended up here in the dingy, evil sorcerer's laboratory, otherwise I'd have thought I was going soft!_

She reached out, grasping hold of one of the upper corners the plain sheet. Taking a breath, holding it in, she softly lifted it, attempting to reveal what lay beneath. The sheet rose, creases remaining where the edges of the large article underneath had lain. Blackness came into view, and Alanna frowned.

It was…strange. It wasn't…it didn't truly appear to be…_solid. _It was darkness, a rough circle of non-light that seemed to be encased within an obsidian frame. The frame was visible, certainly, but what lay within it was beyond any real description – it almost appeared to be a dark liquid, suspended within the frame and frozen in place.

But it wasn't frozen. It just…wasn't moving.

Alanna lifted the sheet some more, revealing most of the dark frame and it's mysterious contents to her vision. It was more of the same, a large circle of frame enclosing the dark centre.

_What is this?_ She hadn't the slightest idea, and she had a feeling that not many people did. Thom had seen it, whether it was this item in particular under the sheet or not was another matter – but what he had seen he had considered dangerous. He couldn't believe Roger possessed one, either. There was something else, she felt, something else Thom had done with it or said about it, but she couldn't recall precisely what. 

What was obvious, at the moment at least, was that this wasn't_ exactly _what she was looking for. Jon needed proof that Roger was behind the death of his mother, and this certainly wasn't it. Well, unless it was something that helped him do that, but she had no idea of how she'd prove that. If it was true, which could be very unlikely. For all she knew, the circular frame was used to predict the weather!

No, she'd have to look a little harder for what Jon needed. But this_ could _be something that would help the Goddess. Possibly.

How was she going to know? The Goddess wasn't here, and she'd be the only one able to tell what exactly constituted 'sufficient proof', wasn't she? Though didn't she say something about her knowing when Alanna found…?

"Alanna?"

Geeaaaagh! 

Alanna spun around in fright, heart climbing into her throat at the whispered voice behind her. Raising her fists, she readied herself to slam them into the face of whoever it was accosting her…only to see the radiant face of the Goddess there, a dark haired beauty clad in the brightest white gown Alanna had ever seen. More than at any other time Alanna had been in her presence, the Goddess truly looked…like a Goddess, quite simply. _That doesn't excuse her actions, however…!_

Lowering her fists, Alanna settled for the angriest glare she could muster. "What's your problem?" she whispered savagely. "Why'd you sneak up on me like that?"

"I didn't." the Goddess answered, simply. "You just didn't notice me. Besides, would you rather me make a lot of noise, perhaps attracting attention?"

"Yes!" She sighed, "I mean no. No I didn't want you making a lot of noise, but…honestly! You could have taken my own, admittedly very mortal, notions about fear and terror into consideration." The Goddess smiled slightly, before dipping her head. Alanna wasn't sure whether it was done in amusement or contrition, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

The other woman pointed at the object in front of Alanna. "I'm here because of_ that_."

Alanna waited expectantly, until it became obvious that she wasn't going to get an explanation offered to her. "And? What exactly_ is _it? I take it that, since you're here, that it's proof of Roger being this other gods, uh, prawn."

"Pawn, Alanna." Alanna smiled sweetly at the Goddess,_ thank you so much for the English lessons, _She wasn't sure quite _why_ she was suddenly so antsy, but she didn't have the time nor the inclination to really wonder,"And yes. It's evidence of that and more, quite frankly. As to what it is, well, there's no real way for me to describe what a Chaos Vent is."

_Chaos Vent? _"But it's proof enough, right? Enough for you?"

"Oh yes, definitely. Usuoae releases her essences into different worlds through these, and the fact that Roger apparently has such a stable one is evidence enough of a link between them. Or should be, anyway."

Alanna frowned, "Should be?"

"Yes. We gods are not omnipotent, Alanna. You should know that by now,"_ I would if you didn't act like you are all the time, _"More than that, Usuoae's influence means that our vision is far…blurrier than it should be. But based on what I've seen already, this is evidence enough of a link."

"Good. So can you just…magic Roger away, or something?" She grimaced, "While I'd rather Roger be put away by those who he wronged, I wouldn't oppose you just getting rid of him."

The Goddess smiled wanly at that, before stately turning her back on Alanna. "I wish I could, Alanna. You've done what I asked of you, after all."

"But…?"

"But I cannot. Gods have laws too, Alanna, and I cannot simply…magic Roger away. Not until he's judged by the Celestial Court, anyway."

"Celestial Court? Ugh, I don't think I want to know."_ What a name – if they name something like that, such a prosaic name, then I know they're not omnipotent!_ She rolled her eyes, "So we've still got to deal with Roger ourselves? You can't help in that_ at all_? You said it yourself – I helped you as you asked me to, and in thanks I just get my problems completely ignored?!"

"As I said, Alanna," the Goddess remained with her back to Alanna, something she found particularly aggravating, "If circumstances work in your favour I may be able to remove Roger."

"What does that mean? What does_ remove _mean? And how long might it take for these 'circumstances' to align?" 

"Remove in the very _obvious _sense of the word, Alanna." The white-gowned woman spun on her heel, "And as long as it takes to adjudge his role in Usuoae's scheme."

"And how long might that take?"

"I don't know. It could take any amount of time. Seconds to years, I don't know how the Court will act on this matter."

_She's no help, she's not going to be of any help whatsoever! She doesn't even care that she can't help me, whose done so much for her…! _Alanna couldn't keep a handle on her temper for much longer, "So what you're trying to tell me is that unless I want the possibility of waiting around for_ perhaps years _to see Roger pay for his crimes, I'm on my own?"

"Not on your own," The Goddess replied softly, "You have your friends. Those who love you."

She scoffed, "Which obviously doesn't include you."_ Hurry, Alanna. You've wasted too much time on this already. If she's not going to help, then you still need to find some evidence to bring Roger down. Seeing the Goddess open her mouth, Alanna held up her hand. "You know what? Don't bother answering that. I'm very happy that I could help you, but since you're not going to return the favour, I'd better get back to what I was doing. Roger – the one that you're so willing to allow freedom to – could walk in here at any time and in fact, since I overloaded the warding on the doorway," She stopped for a second there, swallowing thickly as she realised that _wassomething the Goddess had helped her with. Nevertheless, her seething anger was a little too established for her rant to be undone yet, "he's probably already on his way here. So, if you don't mind…?"

The Goddess stood there for a moment, and Alanna began to fear she'd gone too far. She didn't particularly care, mind you, but it was a fear that she considered rather evident. She licked her lips, watching the other woman continue to just stare at her.N_ot that what I said was unjustified, but perhaps I could have been a little more tactful. _She sighed softly, cursing under her breath, and tried to rein in her temper enough to allow her to apologise. "Look," she began unsteadily, "I meant what I said – don't think I didn't. But I shouldn't have been so…forthright about it all. Sorry."

"I do love you, you know." The Goddess broke her silence with a statement which seemed to be so absurd to Alanna that she almost began laughing, 

"Sorry?"

"You though that I don't love you. I do. I love each person on this earth – and I love you especially, because of who you are and what you've done."

_Ah_."Right. This whole Champion thing, if I remember correctly."

The Goddess sighed, "More than that, Alanna. You're a paragon, don't you see?"

Narrowing her eyes, Alanna shook her head. "Not as such."

"You're an example. To the women, obviously, but also to the men of this world. What one person can accomplish when they set their mind to it; regardless of convention or prejudice."

"Right," Alanna restrained her sneer, "So I'm a role model, eh? I see – the unfeminine Shang who lies about her past to prevent people from turning on her, who didn't believe in the Gods until one finally dropped into her lap, who hurt her best friend when she slept with him, even though she knew she didn't reciprocate the feelings he felt for her." She rolled her eyes, "I'm great, yeah."

"Everyone has their flaws, Alanna. But don't you see? The good parts of who you are, the caring soul who is willing to help those less fortunate, the love you hold in your heart, the commitment and dedication in pursuit of a goal – these are all very admirable qualities, Alanna."

She wasn't sure about this, in fact she was_ very unsure _about what the Goddess was saying. A cynical part of her mind kept whispering that she was merely trying to placate her, to flatter her so much she'd forget how much she had risked to help the Goddess…who had offered nothing in return. She shook her head, turning to one of the benches and beginning to visually examine papers and the like. "Whatever. I need to keep looking around – I don't have much time, and I don't know what I'm looking for at any rate."

"I do love you, my Daughter." The words rang hollowly in Alanna's mind. "And know that I won't forget what you have done for me. I still consider you my Champion, even if you do not wish it."

Alanna grimaced at that. "Go, please."

A sigh was her only reply. When she turned around, both the Goddess and the sheet covered object – what had the Goddess called it? A Chaos Vent? – had disappeared._ That was a whole lot of fun_.Though, she supposed as she wrinkled her nose up at the thought, having fun probably wasn't the point. At the very least, she'd accomplished one thing tonight. Perhaps she should set about making it two. Nodding, she tried to focus once more. She thought that almost five minutes had elapsed since she'd entered the room, and hopefully Jon had stuck close enough to Roger over the evening that he'd be able to warn her if his Cousin had left to check on his rooms. 

So she had a little time, at any rate_. Best to be using it, then._

With that thought in mind, she began to skim her eyes over the tables, attempting to locate anything – anything – that might look…_what? Incriminating? Yes, I'm sure Roger leaves papers lying around which could be considered legal proof of his previous misdoings. _She cursed softly, and tried to focus once again. There was no point in illuminating the flaws in this current plan; no, better to just try as hard as she could to turn up such evidence, and leave the potential for failure element alone until after she didn't have immediate access to Roger's personal effects.

_Personal effects…_She frowned. Roger surely wouldn't leave such incriminating evidence out here in a, well, she didn't technically know what this place was. A laboratory she'd called it previously, and it seemed to fit – but he might have left such documents or whatever in his sleeping chambers. The question was, where were they?

Jon had termed these 'Roger's Chambers', so she assumed that Roger lived in a number of different such rooms, most probably all joined together. He was, after all, one of the more powerful individuals at the palace, and she imagined it was a fair assumption that he'd ensure that his various rooms were all adjoining. Peering about, however, revealed another problem. Not counting the door she had entered from, there were at least four other doors leading from the room.

Which went to Roger's sleeping chambers? And perhaps more importantly, were all the doors warded?

A chill ran up Alanna's spine, and she frowned. The cause became apparent enough, however, once a booming voice suddenly (and loudly) entered her mind. _"Alanna!"_ Eyes closed in pain, she clutched at her temples, trying to lessen the pain that accompanied Jon's disembodied voice. _"Alanna can you hear me?"_

"Of course I can hear you!" she whispered through gritted teeth, hoping Jon could hear her. "And could you try being a little quieter?" 

_"Alanna?"_ Apparently he couldn't hear her. Which was bad for many reasons, she felt. _"This is not good. Can you hear me?"_ She agreed with the 'not good' prognosis, but she truly wished Jon would get to the point. She was relatively certain she knew why he was calling, Roger must be coming, but she wished he'd give her a little more details. _"Can you hear me?"_

_Yes, I can hear you!_  She thought, as loudly as she could.

To no avail. _"Alanna? I don't know if you can hear this or not, but if you can – Roger's coming. He started getting fidgety a while ago, and just made his excuses to leave the hall. He's making his way towards you now!"_

_How long, Jon?!_ She all but shouted in her mind, pleading with Jon to give her this information. _How long do I have till he gets here!?_ She looked amongst the doors again, trying to determine if she could just open them without removing their wards. Probably best not to, but she might be forced to if things came to a head. _Please tell me how long till he reaches his chambers!_

Nothing. Jon hadn't heard her, and he didn't extrapolate on his previous message. She shook her head, cursing quietly to herself. How long did she have? She had no idea – it might be as long as five minutes, or it could be far, far less than that. She might only have enough time to get out of his rooms and out of sight. If that! Could she look into one of the rooms? Did she have the time? Was the possibility that there'd be evidence in there warrant the possibility that she'd have to face off against Roger?

_She just didn't know. Only one thing was for certain; _"This is not good."


End file.
